Paths of Twilight
by Amatista
Summary: An unexpected visitor to the Shire. One with no past, but possessing the desire to discover how she came to be in the Shire. The quest of self discovery will also unknowingly shape the fates of her beloved friends, particularly a hobbit and an elf...
1. Dark Rider

**__**

A/N: This is my first attempt at a Lord of the Rings fan fiction. Unlike many, I am not necessarily a die-hard Tolkien fan (not yet, anyway), but I am trying my best to stay somewhat true to the story. But remember: since this is my story, I will more than likely choose to change some things. Please be polite with your criticisms, and I will try to create a decent story for everyone. Enjoy!

******

Night stretched dark and cool along the Shire, bringing with it the songs of crickets and the icy glow of stars. In the distance, a hawk flew soundlessly through tall grasses, re-emerging with a mouse clutched in its talons. The petals of various flowers had closed in the absence of sunlight. Trees rustled softly as occasional breezes sifted through their leaves. Such calmness was always a welcome guest in that region of Middle-earth.   
  
Peregrin Took left the tavern much earlier than usual, hands buried deep inside his pockets. He had grown tired of forcing a smile. His spirits did not dance with the songs and carefree chatter of his kin; his troubles could not be flushed away with endless mugs of ale, nor replaced by edible roots, wedges of cheese, or loaves of bread. Ever since their quest to destroy the Ring, nothing was the same anymore. No one truly understood the magnitude of importance of their task, did not understand that the efforts of four little hobbits had saved all of Middle-earth, and gained them the respect of the kings of Gondor and Rohan. No one seemed to care that they were absent for such a span of time, save for Sam's lovely wife, Rose. These facts troubled his mind. To make matters worse, the atmosphere rippled with sorrow now that Frodo had gone for good. He missed his friend; they all missed him terribly, and there were times when he could not bear it. This evening was no exception. Besides, Merry would no doubt be arriving at his home soon, and he must prepare for the company of his beloved friend.   
  
The hobbit walked along the dirt paths, nodding at those he passed on the way, his large feet kicking a few stones every now and then. There was no moon in the sky, and he felt the darkness surround him like a cloak. Pippin caught himself wondering if Valinor ever saw night, or if only sunlight graced the undying lands with its eternally warm touch. Was Frodo no longer beneath the same sky as his friends? He shook his head, knowing his questions would go unanswered. Such had been the way for eight years.   
  
He felt some relief when his home finally came into view: a large round door leading into a great hillside, his home all his life. All he wished for was a cozy seat in front of a crackling fire, a cup of hot tea warming his fingers, perhaps some quiet, meaningful conversation with Merry. But as he reached for the doorknob, he froze. For the first time that evening, he felt cold, like a finger of ice had run up his spine. He turned ever so slowly. Something about the night seemed to warn him, and he scanned his surroundings carefully. Nothing unusual; only Shire-folk walking past his home, one or two waving at him in greeting. He waved back, but still looked around. He did not try to ignore it; no, Took's were far too curious to ignore anything. He began shivering. Night seemed to call to his heart and tell him something was coming. Something strange. Different.   
  
Stepping away from the door, Pippin took slow, measured steps back to the main path, glancing up and down the walkway, but seeing nothing.   
  
"H-hello?" He managed to say at last.   
  
Silence. It did not comfort him at all. He suddenly wished he had his Elvish dagger on his belt at that moment.   
  
Swallowing, he walked onto the road, walking up the hill, throwing numerous glances over his shoulder to make sure he was not being followed.   
  
"Everything alright, Pippin?"   
  
He jumped only slightly at the voice, and spun to face Perido Stoors and his wife, Mavyan.   
  
"Fine, yes, everything is fine," he said too quickly and smiled.   
  
The Stoors gave him confused looks, but nodded and carried on. "Not a good liar, is he?" Perido mused to his wife, who swatted him upside the head.   
  
"Mind your manners, beloved," said Mavyan.   
  
He watched them walk away, the darkness eventually swallowing them whole. He sighed to himself, realizing he was alone once more. He resumed walking, and questioned himself for it. Why could he not ignore the curiosity that always pulled at his mind? What was it he was seeking? And if he found it, then what next? Tell Merry and keep it only between them? What am I looking for?   
  
What he saw next caught him off guard: a dark shape began to materialize over the hill. A tall horse and hooded rider. His eyes widened, his face grew pale, and he released a strangled cry, remembering the Black Riders they had escaped years ago. Had they returned? Was it possible that Sauron was once again sending forth his evil minions? No, it was destroyed. The Ring had been destroyed! He thought wildly, taking frightened steps backwards. It cannot be...it cannot be...   
  
But as he continued to look, he realized that this shape was not the same. The rider was not sitting upright; he lay atop the great stallion, as if unconscious, arms and legs dangling uselessly at its sides. A man. A young man, judging by his size. A rare sight in the world of hobbits. Why would a man be riding through the Shire at this time of night? Pippin wondered, wandering further onto the path. More importantly, what happened to him? The stallion gave a frightened noise when the small being came into view and reared onto its hind legs. Pippin shrank back in surprise, not wishing to be trampled by heavy hooves, and gasped as the man tumbled from the saddle, landing on the ground with a dull thud. The stallion bolted forward on the well-trodden path, disappearing into darkness at a blinding speed. Deep down, Pippin knew he was gone for good.   
  
His attention turned back to the man, who remained an immobile and silent heap. Pippin immediately went to his knees, trying to turn him over.   
  
"Hey...Hey. Come on, lad, you're alright," he spoke quietly.   
  
He paid no attention to the other hobbits who came by, who had also witnessed the stallion's flight, and the abandoning of his master.   
  
"Where's that horse off to?"   
  
"Who is it, Pippin?"   
  
"Where'd he come from?"   
  
"What happened? Oh, my goodness!"   
  
"There's a man on the ground!"   
  
"Peregrin Took, what has happened? What have you done this time?"   
  
But he heard none of it. When he succeeded in turning him over...turning _her_ over! His eyes widened. A girl! For a while, nothing seemed to happen. There was no sound, no movement, no air. Gone were all thoughts of Frodo, Merry, the Shire, everything vanished like fog as he stared. A young lady. The gathering hobbits went silent again at this revelation.   
  
"By the stars above..." Pippin whispered, pushing back the hood of her tattered cloak and bringing a trembling hand to her cheek. "Where did you come from?" No answer, and he did not expect one. Her young face held a troubled, pained expression, old blood staining her brow and dripping down her head. Blood and dirt matted her fair hair to her skin. And then he realized that a small arrow was jutting from her shoulder like a strange tumor. There were cries from the others, several hands clapping over mouths in shock at her appearance. "Oh..." He breathed, not entirely sure of what to do or say.   
  
Of course, suggestions flew from many mouths, each one yelling at the other. _She should go here; she should stay there; throw her into the river, for she'll not last the night; pull the arrow from her shoulder; no, that will make her blood flow quicker... _  
  
They were all lost to Pippin. He felt all of the voices falling away from his ears, all becoming a faint, distant echo. No one existed except this poor young girl, armed with only a cloak...and a sword. It was the first time he noticed it, sheathed under the cloak safely. How skilled was she with the blade? So many new questions to deal with…All he was able to do was place a gentle hand upon her forehead, hoping that perhaps she could feel a presence here with her. "Can you hear me, daughter of men?" No reaction. Awaken, he prayed, please awaken, milady.   
  
Only one voice cut clearly through his trance.   
  
"Pippin!" Meriadoc Brandybuck pushed his way through he crowd. "Back off, all of you! Get out of the way!" He stopped once he was through, hovering above the hobbit and the girl, and was rendered silent. He tried to form words, but only succeeded in moving his lips.   
  
Pippin glanced up at his lifelong friend, suddenly very, very relieved. "Merry," he smiled weakly, "we have an unexpected visitor."   
  
Merry gazed at her in wonder, also surprised to see a daughter of men within the confines of the Shire. The blood on her face caused the worry in his stomach to churn. He, too, dropped to his knees, placing a hand on her wounded shoulder. "Who is she?"   
  
"I have no idea, but that doesn't matter. Just look at her. She needs help, and I'm pretty sure she'll be in need of medicine as well. What are we going to do?" His voice came out low and slow, though inside his heart beat at a frantic pace.   
  
Merry looked around, suddenly angry with the spectators. "Haven't you seen enough? Why just stand there instead of giving aide to those who need it most?" He yelled. "Go on, get moving! Get out of here, go on! Back to your homes, for the hour is late."   
  
Some still lingered, but he did manage to frighten a few off, minimizing the group that stood there. Merry took a hold of Pippin's arm. "Let us bring her inside. She should not be exposed to the cold in this sort of condition."   
  
Each of them grabbed an arm, dragging her limp, heavy body towards the burrow in the hillside. Pippin winced as he thought about her wounded shoulder. "Merry, mind her injury!"

"I'm trying! But this isn't exactly easy, Pip," he groaned through gritted teeth as they pulled her to the house. "You said she needs help, and so we're going to help her all we can." For hobbits, even a smaller human posed a challenge to haul into the house, and it took several tries simply to get her through the door. The other hobbits watched with interest, then finally dispersed, no doubt to tell the entire Shire of the new visitor staying in Pippin's home. Pippin sighed to himself heavily as he closed the door, not looking forward to the attention he was soon to receive. 


	2. Whispers

Space was made on the commons room floor to accommodate the Shire's new occupant. The girl's sword had been propped against the far wall. Pippin ran a damp cloth over her wounded head with long, methodical strokes, staring at her sleeping face as if hypnotized. Merry had hustled about the burrow, starting a fire, fetching more wood, brewing a pot of tea, and gathering various items in his arms. He returned carrying blankets and some old shirts.   
  
She feels so cold, and yet looks so serene. Pippin thought to himself, dipping the cloth into the silver basin beside him. There were numerous small cuts upon her cheeks, as if a branch had swiped her face while she was riding. He wondered how long she had been out in the wild, whether she was being followed, who had shot her with an arrow...Patience, he reminded his heart. Hopefully, all questions would be answered when she awoke.   
  
"Make sure you clean her off as thoroughly as possible," Merry repeated for the third time that evening. "Do you mind if we use these?"   
  
Silence.   
  
"Pippin."   
  
He blinked rapidly. "What?"   
  
"These shirts; the thick fabric would make proper bandages for her. Do you mind using them?"   
  
"Oh. No, I have enough."   
  
Kneeling, Merry gazed at her form, hardly detecting the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.   
  
"I'm not above lending my hand to those who need it, especially when they are dropped before your feet," Merry said, "but what I don't understand is how you could tell she was alive. I could have sworn she was no different from a corpse when I saw her. How did you know?"   
  
Pippin shook his head, but never looked at him. "I didn't." He swiped the cloth across her head again, leaving a shining path of water droplets behind. "I didn't know..."   
  
Merry arched an eyebrow, but chose not to press the issue. He retrieved a dagger from his belt and proceeded to cut the ragged cloak from her neck. The dress she wore was filthy and torn in many areas. One of the blankets was immediately thrown over her lower body. "Must keep you warm, milady. The fire ought to assist in taking care of that, too." With extreme caution, he cut away the fabric of her sleeve in order to get a better look at her shoulder. Dried streams of blood had flowed from the arrow and clung to her skin like red snakes. He swallowed thickly.   
  
"How does it look, Merry?"   
  
"I'm not sure, to be honest, but I do know one thing: the arrow needs to come out."   
  
Pippin's head finally shot up. "What?"   
  
"The arrow; we must pull it from her shoulder. We cannot leave it in there or else it will never heal. Besides, what if it's poisoned? Cannot let anymore flow into her veins." He reached for it, knowing Pippin would not--   
  
"Wait."   
  
Merry stopped at the sound of Pippin's voice.   
  
"Let me do it. You find her other injuries, and I'll tend to this one."   
  
He was shocked to say the least, but half-smiled and nodded. "Come on. Get to it, then."   
  
"Right. Best do this quickly," he sighed, and wrapped his hand around the arrow. "I hope the pain will not be too severe."   
  
"I doubt she will feel anything in a state of deep sleep. Just get it out of her."   
  
Taking a deep breath, Pippin wrenched the arrow from her shoulder with a grunt. As he did so, the weakest of whimpers fell from the girl's lips, and both hobbits froze. They did not even breathe, fearing they would suddenly wake from a very vivid dream. The noise that left her mouth still echoed in their minds. It had been a sound of pain, and they felt their hearts break. Harm was not something they wanted to inflict upon the innocent. How aware was she? Would she already awaken on this night? For a while, all was quiet as they waited.   
  
But as time ticked by, it became more and more apparent that she would not stir.   
  
The arrow was tightly clutched in Pippin's hand, the entire tip of it stained crimson. His mouth had gone as dry as sand. "Well," he whispered hoarsely, "that was certainly unexpected."   
  
Merry nodded, tearing a sleeve from one of the old shirts. "It may be a good sign, though. Here, let's make sure we keep that arrow. If it really was poisoned, maybe we can find out what it was poisoned with." Pippin placed the arrow in the cloth, and Merry wrapped it with care. "And take this; clean the wound and cover it up tight. We have to stop the bleeding," he handed him another scrap of cloth, and Pippin obeyed.   
  
******   
  
In addition to her shoulder, Merry discovered a number of slashes across her chest and stomach, but they would heal over easily. As he tied a larger bandage about her torso, he glanced at her face again, studying her features. It was obvious to any eye that she was indeed a younger lady. Her body was long and thin, but somewhat solid in the arms. With her rounded face finally washed, she was revealed to have pale skin marred with scratches. As they dressed her wounds, they spoke quietly. Not to one another, but to the girl. Muttering reassurances, reciting short verses, encouraging her to get well; it had been Pippin's idea, talking to her as she slept. They were doing all they could to let her mind know that she was not alone, to let her heart be at peace.   
  
They managed to put an end to her blood flow. She remained enveloped in a cocoon of blankets before the fire, breathing slowly and evenly. Pippin had pulled the girl's head into his lap, trailing his fingers over her face delicately. In one of the chairs, Merry took a long drag on his pipe, filling his lungs with sweet smoke and then releasing it in a puff of gray. Most of his anxiety faded along with the smoke, calming his nerves and his mind.   
  
He stared at the fire a while. "She looks rather young, don't you think?"   
  
Pippin picked up his cup of tea, feeling the warmth soothe his fingers. "Yes."   
  
"Can you decipher her age?"   
  
"I'm a pretty poor judge of men's ages, but if I had to venture a guess...perhaps she is twelve...thirteen...fourteen...?"   
  
Merry offered a short laugh. "Guessing games never were our strongpoint, were they? Appearances could be deceiving, but I'm sure she'll answer all of our questions. Of course, I must wonder why someone her age is riding through darkness unaccompanied. And she must not have been riding for very long; I would think that an unconscious individual could not remain on a horse for too long. I'm surprised she didn't fall off immediately." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Something terribly wrong must have occurred."   
  
"What do you think happened?"   
  
He shrugged. "There are so many possibilities offer you there."   
  
"Do you think she was involved in some kind of battle?"   
  
"Most likely. Why else would she be riding about with an arrow in her shoulder and a sword on her belt?" He paused, then stood and retrieved her sword.   
  
"What are you doing?"   
  
He sat and unsheathed it, and they both took in a breath as they admired the weapon. The blade, which was almost as long as they were tall, was a flawless blue-gray work of art. It curved elegantly, and there was an intricate pattern of swirls and waves etched into the metal. The firelight reflected off it, creating an orange-white sheen. "Beautiful."   
  
"I'll say," said Pippin.   
  
Merry examined every inch of the pattern. "Never seen one like this before. Must have been a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation." He slipped it smoothly back into its sheath. "Don't think hobbits were ever meant to wield swords. Too big for us, they are, would no doubt knock us off balance during combat," he chuckled, puffing on his pipe. He thought of the daggers the Elves had given them years ago. "I remember when we never had to worry about protecting our lives in our own land. You know, Pip, I'll bet you and I are the only ones in the Shire who possess weapons of war. Not that I see it as a bad thing. In fact, it may be the smartest acquisition we've ever come across. Really, who knows? What if there comes another time when..."   
  
His voice trailed off as he watched Pippin, who had gone stiff during the conversation, staring at the girl's face intensely. Merry did not understand...until he noticed the girl's eyes were open. Mere slits, but open. He lowered the pipe from his mouth, coming close to the pair on the floor. "Young one," he whispered.   
  
"Shh." Pippin was frightened and excited as he stared into unfocused slits of deep blue. He could tell she was forcing her eyes open, eyes that shone with uncertainty and discomfort. How he wished to take it all away from her. Unconsciously, he cupped her cheek, pleasantly surprised to find the skin was growing warmer. She continued to stare, then uttered a whisper that was barely audible. _"Mellon..."_   
  
The word made his stomach jump, but he understood her soft inquiry. He released a shuddering breath. "Yes."   
  
The girl's eyes closed, slipping away yet again.   
  
"What happened?" Merry asked.   
  
Pippin sighed heavily. "She sleeps."   
  
"But what did she say to you? That word. It sounded strangely familiar."   
  
"That's because we've heard it before. It was the Elvish word for 'friend.' I remember Gandalf saying so years ago."   
  
His face brightened like the sun. "She knows Elvish!"   
  
"It would appear as such."   
  
"Perhaps she knows the Elves then. Maybe she is lost and they are out searching for her."   
  
"As you said, anything is possible." Pippin looked at his friend, an almost pleading look in his eyes. "Do you think she'll really be all right, Merry?" Dark rings had begun to appear under his eyes, and his voice held a tremor to it; he was genuinely afraid for this girl's life.   
  
Feeling his heart expand, Merry laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "She'll be alright. I promise you." He glanced at her sleeping face. "What now, Pippin?"   
  
He shook his head. "I know not. Have you any suggestions?"   
  
Merry pondered the question for a long time, chewing on his lower lip. "If she knows the language of the Elves, perhaps we should include one who is knowledgeable about their race. There may be more clues we are not finding." Pippin knew what he was getting at, but Merry still said it aloud. "When light returns in the morning, I think we should find Sam." 


	3. Seeking Samwise

The sky was changing. With the approaching dawn, velvet purple darkness morphed into reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows. Dew made the grasses shimmer like water. Morning mist disappeared as the sun rose, and meadowlarks and sparrows welcomed it with harmonious songs. Sunlight crept through the windows facing east, bringing the brightness of a new day throughout the burrow and to the green world of the Shire. 

Merry had already left to fetch Sam. Pippin, who had fallen asleep only an hour ago, lay curled on the floor beside the girl. It was a sight to behold when the two hobbits returned. 

Samwise Gamgee was staring incredulously, running a hand through his short hair. "Has he been like this all night?" 

"Ever since she arrived," Merry answered. "It's rather charming, actually: he's like a mother hen guarding its hatchling." 

Sam came close, tilting his head curiously at the strange human. "A young blossom she is." He swallowed visibly. "Not used to seeing anyone but hobbits around our parts," he said. "She fell off a horse, right?" 

"She was unconscious while riding and fell in front of Pippin's home." 

"Who else saw?" 

"Far too many others." 

"Oh, lovely," he groaned. "You may want to bar the door in case anyone decides to investigate." 

"My thoughts exactly. Did you want to look at her injuries?" 

"Well, I'm not sure how developed my skills are with medicine, but I'll see what I can do." He knelt down, not wishing to disrupt Pippin's rest, and brought a hand to her head. "Head's a bit warm, probably the final traces of an acute fever." He examined her scalp gently. "No swelling, that's a good sign. Tell me, where was she injured?" 

Merry took the time to draw back the blankets and torn clothes, showing Sam the now blood-soaked bandage on her shoulder. "This was the biggest concern, where the arrow was," he indicated. "The others will scar without a problem." 

"Good. She only spoke the one word?" 

"Yes. Nothing more." 

He pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, it will take more than a single Elvish word to determine her origin. She is not an Elf herself." 

"We know," said Merry, who brought in mugs of freshly brewed tea, "but it's possible she has befriended them. You're the only halfling in the Shire who studies the Elves and their way of life, and that's why I came for you." 

Sam looked at him with a smile. "I would have helped you either way." 

Merry smiled. 

Sam accepted his tea with a nod, and then suddenly remembered. "Merry, here," he removed a leather pouch from his sash, handing it to him. 

He opened it and found several different types of leaves, all of them giving off a refreshing aroma. "What is it?" 

"Tea leaves from my own garden, grown out of the soil of Galadriel. Brew a new pot; I want her to drink it when she eventually comes to." 

He gave a strange look. "But wouldn't it make sense to wait until she wakes, and then make the tea?" 

He shook his head. "I'm not sure if it has to do with Elf magic or just what, but anything grown from the soil has been...I'm not even sure how to describe it without sounding crazy. The last time my Elanor was taken ill, I made tea from the same leaves to help ease her sore throat. But I would soon find out that she probably didn't even need to drink it. As it was brewing, the mere scent seemed to cleanse her senses and soothe the burning in her neck, like some sort of airborne elixir. And when she actually drank it, it was only hours before she was smiling and running about again. It cleared her all problems from the inside out. I'm hoping perhaps it will take the same effect on this one," he pointed to the girl. 

Merry nodded, impressed, and made for the kitchen. "I'll get right to it." 

******

The tea was brewing over a yellow-orange fire, and soon Merry detected the scent of what he could only describe as lavender. Even as it heated, he could feel the fumes clearing his head and lungs, leaving a pleasant coolness in his veins and a sweet taste on his tongue. He now understood Sam's words, and was grateful for his company. Pippin still had not budged. 

"He looks exhausted," Sam commented, now sitting on one of the chairs. 

"Yes, but I didn't want to move him. I offered to watch over her quite a few times for him, let him get some rest, but he refused to move away from her side." 

"You said she had a sword, Merry." 

"Yes. Besides her clothes, it was the only thing she had." 

"Let me see it." 

Merry fetched the weapon and showed it to him. Sam, in awe of its beauty, examined every inch of it closely. "This is beautiful." 

"Our feelings exactly." 

He eyed the blade closely, paying attention to the sharpness on both edges. Then he inspected the design all the way to the hilt...and paused as something caught his eye. Something vaguely familiar. He squinted to get a better look. "How closely did you look at this?" 

"Why? What do you see?" 

Sam brought the sword close and pointed near the bottom of the blade. It was the first time Merry noticed it: below the pattern of waves, there was a strange inscription, one he could not read. Above the writing was a tiny leaf. "Is that Elvish?" 

"Some form of it, yes," Sam said.

"What does it say? Could that be her name? A family name? A city?" 

"It's the name of the blade." 

"Can you translate it?" 

"I'm not sure. Frodo wasn't here long enough to teach me most of the written Elvish language." 

"Can you at least try, Sam?" He pleaded. "Please." 

He licked his lips. "Alright. Let me take this home, Merry," he lifted the sword. "Frodo left me journals containing the information I need, and I should be getting back for now. I do have a wife, family, and home of my own to look after. I will return later in the day, though, and hopefully I will have an answer for you."

Merry nodded in agreement. And then there was a heavy knock at the door, causing them both to jump to their feet. "Peregrin Took! Are you in there? We wish to speak with you!" 

Merry groaned, moving to one of the front windows and peeking outside. At least half a dozen hobbits were already waiting on the stone path, chatting with one another no doubt about last night's events. "Perfect. Now begins the period of unrest." 

"Well-wishers?" Sam remarked sarcastically. 

"Ignore them. It's none of their business anyway, and they'll probably go away if we don't acknowledge them." 

"No need," he said, moving to the door. "I'll shall be back this afternoon, and I'll see if I can break up the mob outside, give you some peace and quiet."

"Sam."

He turned back to his friend. "Yes?"

Merry sighed quietly, not quite sure how to express his and Pippin's gratitude. Why was it so hard to thank someone he had known his entire life? He settled for saying the only thing that came to mind. "Thanks."

Sam smiled, bowed his head, and slipped out the door, greeted by a squawking swarm of questions.


	4. A Troubling Discovery

A gentle yet insistent shaking of his shoulder roused Pippin from slumber. At first, the sudden light of the burrow blurred his vision, and he blinked several times before he recognized Merry before him.   
  
"Time to wake up, Pippin. Here, drink this," he offered him a mug, almost tempted to laugh at the sleep lines on his face.   
  
He pushed himself up. "What is it?"   
  
"Tea. It ought to perk you up right."   
  
Too tired to protest, he sipped at the hot liquid, which flowed with the flavor of many different herbs. As soon as it slid down his throat, adrenaline shot through his nerves and he suddenly felt wide-awake. He stared at his mug, amazed. "What kind of concoction do you call this?"   
  
"Galadriel's Gift."   
  
He shot him a look. "Huh?"   
  
Merry had another of Pippin's shirts in his hands. "A lot can happen in a few hours. You slept right through the morning and missed Sam's visit. He brought the tea specifically for her," he motioned to the girl, "but I figured you might need some as well."   
  
"Sam...was here?"   
  
"Bright and early. Don't worry, though; he'll be back soon enough."   
  
"Is he able to help us?"   
  
"He is doing so as we speak." He kneeled, tearing the shirt. "We need to change her bandages. Blood has soaked through the wrap on her shoulder."   
  
They quickly washed and redressed the wound, draping it with clean scraps of material. Not once did she flinch or squirm, but great care was still taken, as if she were aware of everything. Merry took the time to explain Sam's finding of the Elvish script upon the sword, which rather fascinated the hobbit. He looked down, giving her a tired smile. A hint of color had returned to her cheeks. He touched her forehead; the fever had ebbed away.   
  
"Did she say anything more while I was asleep?"   
  
"Not a word."   
  
He still stroked her skin lightly, and, without realizing, began to let a song pass through his lips.   
  
_"Light shines through the clouds of gray,   
revealing heart and soul of day,   
warmth and strength to all it gives,   
to tell the world to laugh and live.   
'Come to me,' Sun gently sighs,   
'with hearts alight and sparkling eyes,   
awake thy hearts for Night has passed,   
rejoice and may thy rapture last.'   
March forth and extend thy hand,   
day shall lead thee o'er golden lands,   
take a breath and start anew,   
and day shall guide you through and through."   
_  
He smiled again as the song ended. Merry had listened quietly. "Very nice. You used to sing that often when we were children."   
  
"I know. I still love to sing it when the sun rises--"   
  
There was another round of pounding at the front door, almost causing Pippin to spill his tea.   
  
"Hey now, what do they think they're doing making all that racket? She's trying to rest!"   
  
Merry sighed. "The gossiping folk from Tookland and Buckland have come a-calling, and in great numbers. I wouldn't be surprised if the entire Shire knows by sunset. It's been this way all day, my friend. You've become quite famous since last night."   
  
The thought did not please him. "I ought to brand them for making such noise. The poor girl didn't ask to be dropped in the middle of the Shire, didn't ask for attention from anyone, didn't do--"   
  
Merry waved his hand. "There's not much you can do about it. Tend to your own matters, and care not what the others think."   
  
Pippin shook his head. "I won't let her be put on display like some sort of savage animal; she is a life, and deserves better treatment."   
  
Merry half-smiled. "You know what? I think she would have been glad to hear that."   
  
******   
  
"I said no. Go home, please." Pippin stated firmly. The sun had set, but loiterers remained on his step.   
  
"Be reasonable, Peregrin!"   
  
"I am being reasonable. What gives you the right to demand entrance into my home?"   
  
"You are harboring a human and everyone knows it. We have a right to know what is going on."   
  
"No. Not tonight."   
  
"You saw her when she came last night: the blood, the dirt, the clothes. She could be luring danger here! We must send her away!"   
  
He clenched his fists. "How dare you speak such words when she is in no condition to defend herself!" Most of the hobbits shifted uneasily, guilty looks crossing some of their faces. "No, there will be no visitors tonight. She's not even awake, so why can you not leave her in peace?"   
  
"We need to know, Pippin."   
  
"So do I. Now if you'll excuse me," he shut the door at last, not caring about the continuing protests on the other side of the thick oak barrier. He rubbed his face with one hand, letting himself rest against the door. The scent of Elvish tea hung heavy in the air, but brought him no comfort from the stressful accusations of visitors. "Tell me this won't last forever, Merry."   
  
"It won't last forever."   
  
"Then why don't I believe in that?"   
  
"Because you are afraid of what might happen to her."   
  
He could not argue with the statement. He jumped when there was another knock, but this time he refused to answer it. That is until he heard the voice behind it.   
  
"Back, you vultures, get back! Oy, it's Sam! Open the door, will you?"   
  
Pippin quickly wrenched the door open, enough to allow Sam into the burrow. Under one arm, he clutched the sheathed sword; the other held two leather books.   
  
"Ah, glad to see you up and around, Pippin."   
  
"Glad to be seen." He hesitated a moment, then embraced Sam in a grateful hug. Sam was taken aback, but then chuckled to himself. "I...uh, thank you for coming back, Sam Thank you for taking a look at her--"   
  
"There'll be time for that later," he interrupted, setting the books on the dining table. From his pocket, he pulled a small cloth. "Pippin, put this over her forehead."   
  
He accepted it, feeling the cloth was already damp. "How will this help? More Elvish remedies?"   
  
He nodded. "I boiled water and added the healing leaves of Nysoth. If I researched it correctly, they ought to sharpen her senses; bring her mind into focus. I've never had a chance to use it, but it's worth trying."   
  
Pippin immediately placed the cloth on her head.   
  
"Has there been any change since this morning?"   
  
Merry came close. "We've not heard any sounds from her, but she did turn her head a few times, perhaps to get comfortable."   
  
"Good. At least it's progress."   
  
"Were you able to find anything, Sam?"   
  
Sam nodded. "Analol."   
  
"What?" Merry and Pippin both responded.   
  
"The name of the sword is Analol." Sam placed the sword across the table, retrieving a loose piece of paper from the larger book. He smoothed it upon the tabletop, showing numerous scrawlings, evidence of his long hours of investigation into the mystery weapon. Merry scanned his copying of the Elvish inscription; below were letters translated into Common Tongue.  
  
"Could I take a look at the blade?" Asked Pippin, who had pulled the girl's head into his lap again.   
  
Merry brought it over, unsheathing the blade for Pippin to see the writing at last.   
  
"Can't believe we missed it the first time," he said.   
  
But Sam sighed. "I'm afraid it's not much, though. I don't know what Analol means, whether it refers to a place or some sort of name, or if it has anything to do with the Elves. There was no mention of such a word anywhere in my books, nor in Frodo's journals. I looked through them for hours, but all I could come up with was this translation."   
  
Pippin traced the letters on the blade. "Sam," he said, "you've already done more for her than any of us could have."   
  
Sam blushed. "You two are responsible for stopping her bleeding, so you have done a great deal for her health. Oh, before I forget, at some point, Rosie would like to see her."   
  
He shot him a look. "What? How'd she find out?"   
  
He sat in a chair. "It's rather difficult to keep quiet to your wife when your nose is buried in books and papers."   
  
"Good answer."   
  
"Anyway, she pestered me with questions most of the day, wondering what I was up to this time. There are no secrets between Rose and me, and these events will be no exception. When I explained in full detail what had occurred, she had an overwhelming desire to see your charge. I told her she could accompany me soon, but now was not the best day for it. She would like to lend her hand, too."   
  
"A true lady she is indeed, Sam," said Merry. "Her help would be much appreciated."   
  
"Yes," came Pippin's voice as he set the sword aside. "I would like that as well. Your Rose is an angel."   
  
Sam smiled. "Yes," he muttered dreamily.   
  
"After almost twelve years as husband and wife, you and her are still as much in love as the first moment you laid eyes on her," Merry commented, changing the subject. "The rest of us can only hope to ever know such happiness."   
  
"And to be blessed with two beautiful daughters," Sam continued. "They both have their mother's eyes. I've never felt such joy in all my life; such a completion of self..."   
  
"Mmmm..." The burrow grew quite silent when the moan reached their ears. Merry and Sam turned slowly to look at the girl, whose eyes were scrunching as she turned her head in Pippin's lap. "Hmm."   
  
The fumes from the tea and the Nysoth cloth must have finally taken effect. Pippin had gone stiff with deep-buried excitement, but forced himself to remain calm. He removed the cloth from her head, and waited as she pulled herself from the darkness of sleep.   
  
"Come back to us, little one; we have been waiting for you."   
  
Her eyebrows raised a bit as she heard his voice. After what seemed like an eternity, she took in a sharp breath and her eyes fluttered open. Her vision was unfocused, but she was staring at Pippin, who gave her a shaky smile.   
  
She blinked, and his face became clearer, confusion reflecting in the depths of her dark blue eyes. "Who are you?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.   
  
Who am I? Pippin thought. Then he shook himself back to his senses. "I, um...Pippin. Ah, my name is Peregrin Took, but my friends call me Pippin."   
  
"Pippin," she echoed.   
  
"And these are my friends," the girl turned to look, "Merry--"   
  
"Hello, young one."   
  
"--and Sam."   
  
"Good evening to you."   
  
"Hello." Oh, how lost she sounded! "Where am I?"   
  
"You're in the Shire," Merry answered.   
  
Her brow furrowed. "The Shire?"   
  
"Yes. What is your name?"   
  
She ignored the question. "How-how did I get here?"   
  
"You fell off your horse last night; we brought you in to take care of you."   
  
Her breathing became a touch heavy, and she attempted to sit up, but her eyes widened in pain when her shoulder burned in protest. "Ohh..."   
  
"That's the other part," Merry winced, "you arrived wounded. An arrow to the shoulder."   
  
"An arrow...an arrow?"   
  
Pippin slipped an arm beneath her neck. "Here; let me help you up." He carefully lifted her up.   
  
She gasped when the blanket fell away, revealing her torn and cut dress. She pulled the blanket tight around herself. "Thank you," she muttered, placing a hand over the bandaged shoulder.   
  
"My pleasure."   
  
Now that she was sitting up and aware, she looked Pippin over with interest, noticing how short he was, a miniature version of a human. Actually, they all were. "You're all so...small."   
  
They chuckled. "We're supposed to be," Sam chimed in. "We're hobbits."   
  
"What?"   
  
"Yes. Halflings of the Shire. Have you never seen one?"   
  
Her face was blank. "Do I know any of you?"   
  
The question caught them off guard. "No, child. We have never seen you before. You came to us only last night."   
  
Sam tried something. _"Mani naa essa en lle?"_ {What is your name?} She only stared, dumbfounded. _"Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie?"_ {Do you speak Elvish?}   
  
She swallowed. The words were strangely beautiful, like music on the wind. It made her heart swell, but..."I don't understand. W-what happened to me?"   
  
Merry tilted his head. "You mean you don't know? You don't know how or why you were shot with an arrow?"   
  
"N-no."   
  
"You don't know anything that happened to you that night? Where your parents are, your village?"   
  
"No." Her voice was getting scarcer.   
  
Pippin brushed her cheek. "What can you tell us? How about your name? Will you tell us your name?"   
  
Her jaw worked open and shut, their questions filling her stomach with an uneasiness she could not define. "I...I don't know." She cast her eyes to the ground, avoiding any of their stares.   
  
The hobbits looked at one another, uncertainty and concern crossing their faces like pale masks. Sam crouched down. "Look me in the eye. Look at me," using two fingers, he tilted her chin up. "Do you have any recollection of who you are or where you come from?"   
  
He could sense her withdrawing into herself, searching her mind frantically for any fragment of memory. Her brow furrowed in concentration; her eyes became troubled as her mind raced to think of something. Anything. It went on like this for several minutes before she locked eyes with him again. "No."   



	5. Uncertainty

Sam had led the girl to the kitchen. Merry and Pippin waited patiently in the commons room. Pippin paced about slowly, arms crossed over himself as he listened to murmurs arising every now and then from the kitchen. She has no memory, he repeated to himself. He could not fathom how unsettling it would be to return to a world he did not know. To have no one to identify him, to not remember his own family and friends, to know nothing of his life and then be forced to find it again. This girl felt empty inside and he knew it. He had seen it in her eyes, though no one else may have noticed. He only hoped that in time, she would reclaim her lost memory. Without it, that was the only way to describe her: lost. In mind and heart. It filled him with a warm sorrow, stemming from his chest to the very pit of his stomach.   
  
Merry's long pipe was hanging from his lips. Only the occasional smoke ring cut through the stillness of the room. He opted to remain silent, for he knew well that some things were better left unsaid. For this, Pippin was grateful. Too many feelings stirred within him to clearly verbalize aloud.   
  
Moving to the window, he was glad to see the last of the visitors had given up for the evening and left his property. Glancing skyward, he spied the perfect silver slipper of a crescent moon hanging amid the darkness. Hard to believe it was only last night she had come. It already felt like days to him...   
  
"Pippin, have a seat, won't you?" Merry broke the silence. "No use in getting worked up until he comes out and tells us something."   
  
He did not look his way. "What do you think they're discussing in there?"   
  
He shrugged. "Who knows? I can hardly hear a thing in there. Sam's very good with keeping his voice down when he needs to."   
  
Pippin sighed, still watching the moon.   
  
"Sam knows what he's doing," Merry assured him. "He's right. It's best she doesn't have so many pairs of eyes watching her. This is all strange to her; we're all strange to her. We don't want to frighten her away."   
  
"No," Pippin breathed.   
  
"What's wrong?"   
  
He shook his head, but could not ignore the feel of Merry's gaze boring into his backside. Eventually, he gave in. "I'm not sure how to describe it, but if I had to put it into words...I guess...I'm frightened."   
  
He lowered his pipe. "Why, Pippin?"   
  
"That's the part I can't even understand myself. I guess I just want to know what I can do for her, if anything."   
  
"We all do," he nodded. "We all do. If you hadn't brought her in last night, what do you reckon would have happened to her?"   
  
He finally turned to look at him. "I hate to think on it, but I really think she might have died. You heard the rest of them today: they wanted to send her away, thinking she'd bring bad luck to our home because she was wounded and in need. They know nothing. I'm willing to bet she never would've turned her back on anyone--man, hobbit, or elf--if he needed help." Merry could have sworn his eyes shimmered with premature tears. "I was not about to let death take her away."   
  
"You're a good friend, Pippin."   
  
"As are you." He paused. "You don't have to stay tonight."   
  
"I know I don't, but what makes you think I'm not going to?" He smiled.   
  
Pippin smiled back, coming to sit next to him. They slipped back into a comfortable silence, passing the long pipe between them.   
  
******   
  
It was a while before Sam emerged from the kitchen, an unreadable expression on his face. Pippin and Merry rose automatically and came to his side.   
  
"Anything, Sam?" Merry asked.   
  
He lifted his gaze and smiled gently. "All I can tell you," his voice was still soft, "is that she is a shy, sweet girl."   
  
"There was nothing further?"   
  
"Nothing to uncover who she is. It's as if her mind has been wiped clean like a slate."   
  
"Still no idea as to why she was shot with an arrow?"   
  
"She cannot recall it. And from what I can tell, it may have simply been a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was no lie in the lass' eyes."   
  
"So what do you suggest we do?"   
  
"For starters, don't pressure her with anymore questions tonight. She's extremely confused and I have to say I don't blame her. We don't want to risk overwhelming her in any fashion." They nodded. "And I want her to get some rest soon. She may have slept through the entire day, but she needs to let her mind relax for a while. Also, you kept the arrow, right?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Don't lose it. You might have been right about it being poisoned, and maybe someone can verify that for us. My knowledge on poisons isn't broad, but maybe I can find someone who is well-versed on the subject."   
  
"Right. Are you heading home for now?"   
  
"Yes. It's been a long day," he slipped his thin coat around his shoulders, the books tucked beneath his arm. "I promised my girls I would kiss them goodnight, but I'll see you all tomorrow morning. Look after her for tonight, lads."   
  
Pippin chimed in at last. "What...what can we do for her, Sam?"   
  
He looked at him curiously, but softened his features when he came to a deep understanding. "Be a friend to her, Pippin. Make her feel as welcome as you can, to let her feel comfortable being here in the Shire. She may not know who she is, but she needs us."   
  
******   
  
As Sam took up the trodden paths, Merry and Pippin watched him go, shutting the door only after he vanished over the hill. Merry's face began to show signs of fatigue. He yawned deeply.   
  
"Merry, you ought to go and get some rest. You can use my bedroom tonight if you'd like."   
  
He nodded. "Thanks. I think Sam had a point about this being a long day."   
  
"Yes."   
  
He studied Pippin through tired eyes. "Why not go and talk to her?"   
  
"Me?" His voice cracked.   
  
"Yes, you."   
  
"But, I mean...why me?"   
  
"Because you like to talk, Pippin, and I'm sure you'd like to get better acquainted with her."   
  
"I...well...what should I say?"   
  
He shrugged. "Sam simply said to make her feel comfortable, so talk about yourself. Talk about the Shire and tell her stories. If she wants to, let her talk about anything that comes to mind. Just let her know we're here for her." He placed a hand on his shoulder. "As I've said before, you're a good friend, and now is your chance to prove that to another."   
  
******   
  
She was taking slow sips of tea at the table, occasionally nibbling at slices of bread Sam had left out. It took her stomach a moment to adjust to food again, but it quickly relaxed and welcomed the much-needed nourishment. The blanket that had acted as a shawl had been replaced by one of Pippin's old cloaks. It was far too small, but at least kept her somewhat covered. Thoughts ran through her mind, though not many. She was aware that the others had questions, but there were too many questions she had for herself. Why couldn't she remember anything? Had she fallen and hit her head somehow, causing her memory to lapse? Had she been put under a spell? What happened to her parents? Did she even have parents? What would the future hold now? Did she even have a future? She did not know...there was nothing. It saddened her terribly.   
  
Pippin watched her from the doorway, not exactly sure how to make himself known. He did not have to; she already caught sight of him from the corner of her eye.   
  
"Were you listening?"   
  
"No!" he answered quickly. "No, milady. I didn't hear a word, I swear."   
  
She tilted her head, noting how very nervous he was around her. "I believe you."   
  
He smiled tentatively, shifting from foot to foot. "How does your arm feel?"   
  
"It's sore, but not unbearable."   
  
"Does it need to be elevated? Do you need me to take a look at it?"   
  
"I won't break," she tried to state firmly.   
  
"Right." He cast his eyes downward. "Right."   
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound harsh."   
  
He smiled reassuringly. "Not at all. Is there anything I can get for you?"   
  
"No, thank you. I'm quite alright."   
  
"Oh," he breathed, a touch disappointed. He was not doing very well so far. "Uh, the tea is helping?"   
  
"Yes, actually. Sam told me it was some sort of Elvish remedy."   
  
"Yes, he's researched their healing methods and way of life for years."   
  
"He's been very kind to me," her voice had grown softer.   
  
In the corner of the kitchen, he spied a pile of unwashed dishes in the large wash basin on the floor. "Ah! I forgot to do the dishes!" He scurried over. "Good, Merry left some water in there just in case." He retrieved a small cloth and plunged his arms into the cool water. "If there's one thing Sam usually reprimands me for, it's for not washing my dishes on a regular basis. But come now, what's wrong with doing so only once or twice a week? I certainly see no problem with it. It just happens to be an activity that bores me to death." He picked up a wet plate and began to scrub. "He should talk, though. I'll bet Rose washes them far more frequently than he does." He chuckled to himself. Then he paused, raising his head to glance over his shoulder. She had been watching his every move. "Would you like to help me?"   
  
Her eyebrows shot up at the unexpected inquiry, but her head was nodding in response.   
  
Pippin smiled. "Great. Come on then, we'll get these done in no time."   
  
When she stood, she realized to her amusement that her head was not far from hitting the ceiling. She came and knelt on the floor and took the cloth he handed her.   
  
"If you would dry them, I'd appreciate it."   
  
She nodded again, silently accepting plates, mugs, and utensils, generously rubbing them in her cloth; already, her arm appeared to be healed, as she effortlessly moved and did not wince. Neither felt the need to break the quiet. It was rather soothing. Pippin watched the girl, her young face focused on her task, momentarily distracting her from troubling thoughts. Much needed relief.   
  
"Where's Merry?" She piped up first.   
  
"Resting."   
  
"Is he feeling alright?"   
  
"Yes. We're not used to all the excitement that we've experienced in the last couple of days. Things are pretty quiet around here for the most part, and to be bombarded by nearly half the Shire-folk all day long takes a lot out of you."   
  
"What do you mean? What happened?"   
  
Pippin did not want to burden her with all the events surrounding her, but she was the one asking the questions. Not him. And he refused to lie to her. How could he? He relayed back to her the details of the other hobbits disturbing his property. His stomach dropped as her face paled.   
  
"Oh..."   
  
He paused. "None of this was your fault, milady."   
  
"I did not realize. It was not my intention to cause trouble--"   
  
He cut her short with a wave of his hand. "You were wounded and lost. You did not ask to fall off your horse that night. You had no more control over the situation than we did, so don't go blaming yourself for anything. I chose to bring you into my home. It was my choice. Understand?"   
  
There was something in her eyes he had not yet seen. They shimmered like the sea, rippling with what he could only describe as admiration. "Are all hobbits like you?"   
  
"Like me?"   
  
"You know: concerned, compassionate, supportive. You and your friends have been wonderful to me."   
  
He blushed. "Well, most of my kin share those traits. However, there are those who exist mainly to spread stories and secrets, but they are a rare breed to find. We all love one another, and it's not hard to find a kind heart in our land."   
  
For the first time, she smiled softly. "That much I do know so far."   
  
Pippin felt his heart swell within his chest. They fell back into comfortable silence, letting the new serenity of the atmosphere settle into their veins.   
  
After a while, Pippin began to hum to himself. The girl listened, but then grew still, holding a dripping mug in her hands as she looked up at him.   
  
He noticed. "Milady?"   
  
"Strange..."   
  
"What is?"   
  
"I heard it," she whispered.   
  
"Heard what?"   
  
"That song. It sounds so familiar..." Her eyes were shining, making his heart clench.   
  
He swallowed. "Does it?"   
  
"Yes." Her face became distant as she spoke. "Yes it does. Something I heard in the darkness. It was too far away..."   
  
"Y-you heard my voice."   
  
She looked at him. "Your voice? It was you?"   
  
Pippin nodded eagerly. "I was trying to help you find a way out of that darkness, and you head it! You did!" He accidentally splashed water in her direction. She gasped as the cold liquid hit her face, but then giggled and wiped her brow. Pippin could only gaze at her in wonder. How lovely her smile, her laugh. Beautiful. "Were you frightened when you heard the song?"   
  
"No. It gave me peace," she began drying the mug again.   
  
His smile was clear. She had heard him singing while she slept..."Would you like me to sing it for you?"   
  
Her smile never faded. "I would like that very much."   
  
Pippin drew in a breath:   
  
_"My ship has sailed the waters blue,   
upon the shores I see you,   
hoping I will hear your plea,   
'Return to me, return to me.'   
O'er the lakes as clear as glass,   
o'er the endless mountain pass,   
forest mazes cannot hide   
devotion laying deep inside,   
in my heart you shall remain,   
a memory warm 'til we meet again.   
Return to me, return to me...   
The ship returns, and I see you,   
your love apparent and still true,   
devoted, faithful you have been,   
I take you in my arms again.   
'Come to me, for I am here,   
need not shed a single tear.'   
A promise I have kept to you,   
and I have returned to you.   
My heart is yours, shall always be   
a gift for all eternity."   
_  
There was the barest hint of a tear from the corner of her eye. "It _was _you."   
  
"You liked it?"   
  
"It was beautiful."   
  
He grinned shyly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it; I thought you would."   
  
"You thought right."   
  
He blushed again. "I know many other songs, too. Perhaps I could teach them to you sometime, if you'd like."   
  
"I would really like that, Pippin. Thank you," she said. "Have you lived in the Shire your whole life?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"What is it like?"   
  
Pippin chuckled quietly. "All you've seen so far are the walls of my home." She nodded. "It does no justice to the beauty the Shire possesses, milady."   
  
"Tell me. I want to know."   
  
"What would you like to know?"   
  
"Everything."   
  
"Everything? That's a tough request to fulfill in one night. Not even I can do proper justice to the Shire with mere words. Besides, I'd want you to actually see it with your own eyes." He thought for a moment. "Tell you what: how about we show you around in the days to come? Get you acquainted with the Shire. Sam, Merry, and I can show you all sorts of places that are very dear to us. It will take time to see everything, but you will see it all for yourself. What do you think?"   
  
Her lips curved into another smile; the simple action took all attention away from the scrapes and cuts on her face. She truly seemed to glow before him. "That would be perfect."   
  
"Then it's agreed, milady. For now, though, let's get these dishes finished up. Sam wants you to get some rest."   
  
"Do I have to? I don't feel tired."   
  
"Ah, you say that now, but I can see fatigue setting under your eyes." Pippin said lightly, then touched her unwounded arm. "You must sleep; you need to keep up your strength if you're going to completely regain your health."   
  
His touch was comforting, warm, a gesture that communicated trust and reassurance. It gave her hope. She nodded in understanding. "Alright." She hesitated, then asked, "Pippin, Sam told me I spoke an Elvish word."   
  
"Yes, that's true."   
  
"What did I say?"   
  
"You…you looked at me and said the word for 'friend.' Do you remember?"   
  
"No. There was only darkness."   
  
"It's alright."   
  
She sighed. "But I don't know Elvish. I know I don't! How I could have said anything in a language I can't understand?"   
  
"Hey," he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, "give it time, milady. I can't say anything else except you have to give yourself time. Worry about it no more this night. I'm afraid everything cannot be solved in one day, but we will help you in any way possible. I promise you."

  
His eyes never left hers, and with every passing moment, the girl became more and more grateful for the hobbit by her side. "Pippin?"   
  
"What?"   
  
A tear fell. "Thank you."   



	6. Reassurance

A most pleasant aroma invaded his nostrils, causing the darkness of sleep to blur, then brighten. It smelled like...sausage? Pippin inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering open to the brightness of a new morning. Stretching in his chair, he felt the warmth of a wool blanket lying atop his form. Funny, he did not remember using a blanket last night. With a smile, he glanced over to find...an empty nest of wrinkled blankets before the fireplace. No trace of the girl. 

"Milady?" He mumbled and sat up, rubbing his face. 

Merry entered the room. "Good morning to you, Pip. Come on in here and get some breakfast." 

"But--" 

"No buts. Sam has had breakfast ready for almost an hour, so you come eat while it's still nice and hot." 

For some reason, he sounded a little grave, but he shrugged it off. His mind was felt too fuzzy to protest, and his stomach was rumbling loudly with hunger. Obediently, he followed Merry to the kitchen. Sam was already at the table, drinking a mug of tea. He expected to find the girl in here as well. But she was nowhere to be found. 

"Where is she?" 

"Young one? Ah, no need to worry; she awoke long before you did. She's outside." 

"Outside?" He cried, suddenly wide-awake. "But--but all those neighbors and folks will be out there! They'll tear her apart! How could you lads let her go?" 

He turned to run for the door, but was halted by Sam's solid grip on his arm. "Relax, Pippin." 

"What? I can't let them do--" 

"There's no one out there," Sam said calmly. 

Pippin stared at him mutely. "Huh?" Then he actually listened: there was no noise outside the door. No pounding, no voices. He went over, cracking it open to peek out. To his delight, the porch was empty. Nothing but an undisturbed yard of green grass and trees. Not a soul in sight. He shuffled back to the kitchen, looking incredulously at Sam. "How?" 

"Being mayor does have its perks. I held a meeting early this morning to inform our kinfolk about the girl, and that she is not a threat to any of us. I also insisted that until further notice, no one is to trespass on your property, or bother the poor lass. She's been through enough without needing to feel completely alienated." 

He gave a hesitant smile. "Thanks, Sam." 

He smiled, drinking more tea. 

Pippin came to the table. "So then, where is she? I didn't see her out there." 

"She's being well taken care of," Merry handed him a plate filled with eggs, apples, biscuits, and, sure enough, sausages. 

"By whom?" 

"Rosie came with me this morning," Sam answered. "She and my girls took her down to the lake to bathe her. No lads allowed," he chuckled. 

A wide grin split Pippin's face, and he began to eat his breakfast. 

After a while, Sam grew serious again. He glanced at Merry, who silently encouraged Sam to speak. "Pippin, she said another word in her sleep. Another Elvish word." 

He swallowed his mouthful of egg with some difficulty. "How do you know?" 

Merry spoke up. "I came out here early to brew some tea, and the young one was whispering the word." 

"What did she say?" 

"_Ada_. The Elvish word for 'father.'" 

His eyes widened. "She said 'father'? How did she sound when she said it?" 

Merry had to think a moment. "A bit terrified, to be honest." 

His hands went cold. "Sam, what do you think this means?" 

He pursed his lips. "Well, it could be a case of repressed memories trying to resurface, her unconscious remembering more than she does. Perhaps she was with her father when she was hit with the arrow, and then was separated from him." 

"So she has a father," he said gently. 

"It's possible." 

"She has a family then! How wonderful! Her father may be looking for her; maybe he'll come across the Shire in search of her. She ought to know about this. Did you tell her? I'll bet she'd be most happy to hear..." But his smile faded as he looked at Sam's doubtful expression. "What is it, Sam?" 

"We don't anything for sure. It could merely be a fluke and her mind is pulling up memories that have no significance to her life. Or it might have been a dream and she happened to utter an Elvish word. There's not enough we know about her to tell us anything, Pip." He rubbed at his neck. "Amnesia's an awful sort of problem. It's unfortunate she cannot remember a single detail about herself to help us along." 

"It's not her fault." 

"I didn't say it was. I'm not trying to lay blame, but I am stating the truth." 

"As far as I can tell," Merry stated, "she is alone in this world, Pippin." 

He sighed heavily, completely at a loss for words. After a while, he came up with, "She's convinced she does not know Elvish." 

Sam nodded. "I intend to approach her on the subject soon. I doubt many humans are able to utter Elvish words unless they once knew the language." 

It became quiet again, none of them moving. There seemed to be a wordless form of debate between the trio, endless thoughts spinning their minds. Each had ideas, but was afraid to offer them aloud. Pippin almost laughed at the situation: here they were, three little hobbits who survived the horrifying war of the Ring, and yet they were baffled as to what to do about a child. The humor of life, he thought, shaking his head. 

Pippin licked his lips. "What do you suggest, Sam?" 

****** 

Not long after breakfast, the front door of the burrow opened, and into the kitchen walked the smiling face of Rose Gamgee. Light from the windows caused her golden curls to shine brilliantly. In her hands was a ragged dress. 

"Ah, Pippin! I wondered when you were going to wake," she came and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

He blushed. "Good to see you, Rose." 

She put a hand on Sam's shoulder, who smiled at his beautiful wife. "Where is the girl?" 

"No need to worry. She's up in the apple orchard with Elanor and Goldilocks. They've taken quite a shine to her already." 

"Really?" This news pleased Pippin. 

"Really," she winked. 

"Rose," he became quiet, "how is she?" 

"How do you mean?" 

"Well, is she in good spirits? Everything was rather troubling for her last night, and I want to make sure she is alright." 

There was a shimmer of comprehension in her eyes. "I don't deny she is uncertain about many things, but I assure you she is well on this day, Pippin." 

The simple statement brought forth a sigh of relief. "Was she afraid of the lake?" 

"Didn't seem to be. We made sure to stay in the shallow part of it, though. Can't be too careful around deep waters." She put the dress aside. "Would you like to come see her?" 

****** 

The orchard was well shaded, even in the noonday sun. Such a sweet scent hung heavy in the air, evidence of the ripeness of bright red apples. As the group made their way there, the sweet laughter of children soon came into earshot. Elanor and Goldilocks sat on the ground, building small wreaths out of daisies. Between them, sitting tall, was the girl. Pippin blinked. This was the same girl, but... 

Blood no longer caked her hair. It fell past her shoulders in soft, fair curls. Her skin seemed clearer, the cuts much less noticeable, making her appear healthier. Gone was her rag of a dress, replaced by clothing Pippin recognized as his own: an old shirt, trousers, and the cloak he had loaned her the night before. Of course, they looked too tight on her. Only the small shoes belonged to her. They were all amazed at the transformation the girl had gone through in a matter of hours. She was smiling peacefully, listening quietly as the hobbit children chatted away. 

Rose called to them, and they waved, the sisters rushing to their mother. The girl stood to her full height, coming towards them. It was the first time the really saw how tall she was, towering about a foot or so above Pippin. 

"Look, Papa," exclaimed Elanor, "Goldilocks and I made her look pretty!" 

There were small white flowers woven into her tresses. She blushed. 

Sam chuckled, lifting Elanor in his arms. "So you did. So you did. Though that's not hard to do, is it?" 

"And watch what she can do! Do it, do it! Please!" Goldilocks insisted. The girl bent down to pick her up, carefully holding her up to a low tree branch. The child plucked off a fresh apple and squealed in delight, tossing the fruit to Merry. He grinned and took a bite. 

Rose breathed in the fresh air. "I hope you don't mind us borrowing your clothes, Pippin, but they seem to fit her well enough for now." 

"Hey now, she looks just like you, Pippin!" Merry joked. "The Took Twins!" 

"Naw, too tall to be called a twin," Sam mused. 

"And Pippin needs some of those flowers in his hair, too!"

Her eyes were cast to the ground, though a shy smile marked her lips as the playfully teased. Elanor and Goldilocks came and grabbed her legs, begging for, "Pony ride!" They all chuckled as they nearly yanked her to the grass. Sam, Merry, and her spoke to one another. 

But Rose glanced over at Pippin, who had not yet spoken. The look in his eyes as he watched the girl was indescribable. She came beside him. "Is anything wrong?" 

Pippin shook his head in wonder. "How did you do it?" 

"Do what?"

"Restore her. She looks so beautiful…so much calmer." 

She laughed. "Sometimes, all it takes is a woman's touch. I'm not sure I would consider it 'restoring' her, but I think she felt comfortable having another woman to talk to. There are certain thoughts and feelings you can't share with just anyone." 

"Right." He chewed his bottom lip. 

"Is something else bothering you?"

"Hmm? Oh, no."

She eyed him carefully, not satisfied with the answer, but not wanting to press the issue. "If you need anyone to talk to, I always have an open ear."

He gave her a very grateful smile. "Thanks, Rosie." 

Rose went over to Sam as the girl approached Pippin. "Hello."

She does seem to have a light heart, he thought. "Good day, milady," he bowed. "You slept well?

"Yes."

"Good. Uh, you're looking quite well today."

She blushed hard, tugging at the snug sleeves. "I look like a boy."

He could not help it; he laughed out loud. "Well, being _my_ clothes, I should hope you resemble a boy."

She seemed shocked, but then giggled at his words. "I guess you can consider me the human hobbit."

"Ha! The human hobbit! A splendid thought indeed. Only one problem, though."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And what might that be?"

He grinned. "Your feet are far too small. " He put his hands on his waist. "How can you properly run about the Shire with those tiny feet? You'll never keep up with Sam's children."

She laughed again, letting it light her face completely. Pippin felt satisfaction wash over him like a cool wave. Perhaps she was not upset being here in the Shire after all. Perhaps she would come out of her shell in time; at least progress had already been made. He was not sure why, but her laugh and her smile were her most comforting traits. 

She was smiling...such a beautiful smile.


	7. Hurtful Words

**__**

A/N: A huge thank you to those who have reviewed me so far: Chris, ElvenStar5, Mists of Myth, and Ice Ember. Your kind words are encouraging!!

******

The following days remained rather pleasant. Incredibly, the others heeded Sam's order to stay away, leaving Pippin's property undisturbed and complacent. Most importantly of all, it was exactly the kind of atmosphere the girl needed. Though she still remained timid at times, she enjoyed the company of her new hobbit friends. That feeling was growing stronger within her.   
  
Thanks to Sam's helpful Elvish remedies, the cuts on her face, arms, and torso shrank away to nearly invisible lines. Her shoulder healed swiftly, though she would forever carry a scar there.   
  
Together she, Pippin, Merry, and Sam explored the Shire, usually accompanied by Sam's family. They showed her around Buckland and Tookborough, letting her climb trees when she felt an urge, gathering leaves, seeds, and nuts that fell from their branches. She marveled at stories about how the trees could come to life. The scents of foreign flowers were new to her, and occasionally she would slip her shoes off to feel the ground under her feet. Blackberries had grown on the bushes, and she would sample them, making the others chuckle when red juice dribbled down her chin. At times, they ventured near the lake, and she would stroke the cool waters with her fingertips. Her curious nature was refreshing. She really was trying to learn everything she could, trying to remind herself of everything she had forgotten.   
  
Once in a while, they spied faces peering from the trees and bushes. So, not _everyone_ had heeded Sam's instructions. But instead of turning and running, the girl would nervously greet them. Usually, they would only blink, not quite sure what to make of her. But then they would smile, wave back, and then disappear again.   
  
However, the ones who really took to her were all the hobbit children. Not just some, but _all_. Fearless, they would rush out whenever the Gamgee sisters led her across the paths, not minding the orders of their parents; they simply wanted to meet the famous human guest in their land.   
  
_Is she an angel? How long is she staying here? Does she like to play hide-and-seek? Can she get us apples, too? Could I have a pony ride next? Do you like pumpkin bread? Can you stay for a little while longer?   
_  
When the parents realized she was harmless, they grudgingly allowed them to interact. The girl loved it; she was full of energy and loved to play, to run about with other young ones. Loved hearing their delighted clapping when she plucked fruit from trees without using a ladder...loved behaving like any other child. They cared not about the boyish clothes she wore, nor did they care about her height. To them, she was an equal.   
  
Pippin would watch her carefully, enjoying how well she seemed to be fitting in so far. The children gave her hope, and he wished for it to continue.   
  
******   
  
Pippin and the girl had crossed a hill on the way back to the burrow around sunset. In her hands was a small, colorful bouquet of wildflowers, and she occasionally sniffed at their fragrant petals. She listened to him tell stories of his family, her eyes taking in the surroundings and sounds of the quieting eve.   
  
Then they caught a glimpse of another coming in their direction. "Pippin! Young one!" Merry waved earnestly. "Hold up!"   
  
"Merry!" Pippin called to his friend. "Thought you'd be all day tending to your matters at home."   
  
"I was, but now it's nighttime," he grinned, turning to the girl. "Has he been taking good care of you tonight, lass?"   
  
Her smile was gentle. "I assure you that Pippin is a terrific host," she handed Merry a small violet flower, which he accepted.   
  
"Good, good. Are you heading home?"   
  
"We're heading for the burrow now. Did you want to join us?"   
  
"Actually, you know we're not far from the Green Dragon. We haven't been there together for a week, and I could really go for ale right about now. So how about it? Won't be the same without you, and maybe we could let young one try her first drink of ale. What do you say?" There was a slight twinkle in his eye.   
  
The idea caused Pippin's face to light. It was true: they had not been by in several days, and he could not deny how much he really did enjoy the taste of well-brewed ale. Still...   
  
He opened his mouth to respond.   
  
"We'd love to Merry," the girl chimed in first, and Pippin gave her a puzzled look.   
  
"Great! Come on," he pulled Pippin's arm.   
  
But he hesitated. "W-we'll be right along. Give us just a moment."   
  
Merry nodded. "Alright, but don't be too long. I need someone to sing with." He stuck the flower behind his ear and trotted off towards the tavern, leaving the two alone.   
  
"What is it, Pippin?" She asked, as if expecting him to speak.   
  
He rubbed his palms together, trying to compose himself. "Why did you agree to go?"   
  
"Because it sounds like something fun to do."   
  
"But...are you certain you want to go in there? It will be loud and there are lots of other hobbits in the taverns, and I'm not sure you'd feel comfortable being around so many people."   
  
She sighed. "Pippin, you know how much I like to have fun, right?"   
  
"Of course."   
  
"And what have you done for fun since I arrived here?"   
  
He wanted to answer, but no response came to mind.   
  
"Exactly." She touched his shoulder. "I don't want you to miss out on having a good time just because of me. That would make me feel terrible. Besides, I wouldn't mind meeting some more new folks. I'd like to begin talking to them, sort of bridge the gap between us."   
  
The hand on his shoulder was gentle. "Could be a long bridge."   
  
"Well, no time like the present to start building."   
  
He contemplated her thoughts. He could not shelter her forever, and perhaps this would be a good stepping stone for her. A chance to open up to those other than children, and gain acceptance by everyone.   
  
"Are you certain you wish to go?"   
  
"Absolutely. Besides, you and Merry will be there to protect me; I will feel perfectly safe."   
  
He tried to nod away his doubts. "Yes, we'll be with you." He sighed. "Alright. We'll go."   
  
She beamed. "Good!"   
  
"But if at any time you desire to leave, please tell me."   
  
"I will. Do I look like I'll fit in well enough?" She spun around, modeling another of Pippin's former ensembles.   
  
He smiled. "Well, they trusted me when I wore those clothes, so there ought not to be a problem with anyone else wearing them."   
  
"Then I'm ready to go."   
  
"Right. Shall we then?"   
  
******   
  
The Green Dragon was a place of celebration, a place for all to gather and spend hours chatting, singing, story telling, dancing, and of course, drinking. Light and merriment were common within its walls. Normally, there was never a night when the tavern was quiet. Now it was dead silent. Pippin and the girl stood inside the doorway, both feeling the heavy tenseness in the air. All eyes focused on the taller of the two, and soon there was a ripple of excited whispers arising.   
  
He was taking slow, deep breaths, hoping to achieve some sort of serenity, no matter how many of them stared. We have no reason to be afraid, he thought. This is the chance to make herself known. Beside him, he could sense the girl's nervousness. Despite how much she had wanted to come, the sudden silence worried her. Her grip on the bouquet tightened. The weight of their gazes caused her shoulders to slouch visibly, and her face was going pale. Pippin took her hand in his, smiling up at her. Worry not, he thought, for I am here with you.   
  
She squeezed his palm gratefully.   
  
Not a moment too late, Merry wove through the crowd calling to them. "Glad you made it! Come on over and have a seat, won't you?"   
  
She looked at Pippin, who nodded encouragingly.   
  
"It's alright. Come on."   
  
Merry had a table by the far wall. They sat together, and there were already frothy mugs of ale waiting for them. "Doesn't hurt to order ahead of time," Merry announced. He and Pippin lifted their mugs to their lips. Around them, voices began to lift again, some going back to their own business, others clearly discussing the presence of the human girl.   
  
The girl was staring at the mug, not entirely sure about drinking its contents.   
  
"Go ahead, young one, you'll enjoy it!" Merry pestered.   
  
She sniffed at it, her nose wrinkling in mild disgust at the pungent odor. "You actually drink this stuff?"   
  
His eyes widened, pretending to be insulted by her question. "I certainly do! Don't tell me you have prejudices against fine ale."   
  
"It smells weird."   
  
"Why don't you give it a try before you decide you don't like it, hmm?"   
  
Reluctantly, she sipped, and proceeded to wince at the bitter flavor. "That's terrible!"   
  
While Pippin was laughing hysterically, Merry gave a look of mock terror, trying hard to harness his amusement. "Bite your tongue! This is the finest brew in all the lands you're talking about." But when her mouth began to twitch with laughter, Merry could hold it in no longer. They became a giggling group in the back of the tavern, and received numerous smiles from the others.   
  
For the most part, the girl remained quiet, content with listening to her friends speak. Even while they spoke, they seemed to hold protectiveness in their eyes. Every now and then, hobbits would approach and greet Merry and Pippin, individuals they had probably known for years. There was a flash of curiosity in their faces when they glanced at the girl, but no one had said much about her yet. Wanting to distract herself, she took in the details of the tavern: from the scent of ale that clung to the air, to the smooth wood of the floor beneath her shoes. The light was surprisingly decent at this time of night, several lanterns and candles hanging on the walls. The liveliness of the hobbits was wonderful to see, and she could tell Pippin was happy. She was glad; he definitely deserved it.   
  
Another hobbit came to the table. "Evening, lads," Riabo Redsmith said cheerfully.   
  
Pippin spoke first. "Evening, Riabo."   
  
"So, this is the little one, huh?" He offered his hand to her, which she timidly accepted. "'Bout time you came around. We've been anxious to meet you."   
  
The knot in her stomach loosened. "You have?"   
  
"Of course! Not often we get the chance to entertain a guest, especially one of your race. But were my ears deceived when I heard you say you disliked ale?" They all laughed again. "Say, Peregrin, do you mind if we borrow her for a while?"   
  
"What for?"   
  
"We have stories we'd like to tell her, too. And what better way to get to know a young lady?"   
  
She almost stood, but hesitated. Her inquisitive blue eyes sought Pippin's permission.   
  
He covered her hand with his. "Go ahead."   
  
She swallowed. "Are you sure?"   
  
"Yes. Go have fun. I command you," he grinned. She lightly pushed at him, and Riabo led her to a table in the back of the tavern, where a small group welcomed her. Over his shoulder, Pippin watched as introductions took place, all of the hobbits having to look up in order in order to meet her eyes.   
  
"I think you may put your worries to rest," Merry stated. "They're taking to her much faster than I had anticipated."   
  
"My thoughts exactly." Some of them were admiring her choice of wardrobe, sweetly commenting on how they had seen Pippin wear the exact same thing once. "Do you think it will last?"   
  
He shrugged. "Who am I to know? We can only hope it gets better from here."   
  
Hope, Pippin echoed to himself. He had to hold onto it.   
  
"To the young one," Merry proclaimed, lifting his mug.   
  
"And to hope," their mugs clinked.   
  
******   
  
As expected, questions were asked, and the girl answered as well as she could. They were intrigued by her memory loss, but were unusually sympathetic with her. They found it hard not to call her by a name, but she assured them she did not mind. To Pippin's relief, they seemed to be accepting her. Women doted on her, loving her curls of hair, claiming she was far too thin for her age.   
  
"Honestly, are you even feeding her, Pippin?"   
  
"Hey, she almost eats more than I do!"   
  
The girl, however, assured them of the decent care he provided.   
  
Singing and dancing ensued, bringing much warmth within the walls of the Green Dragon. Pippin and Merry had joined in the festivities, skipping and hopping upon the tabletops. The girl was clapping in time with the songs, smiling and laughing all the while.   
  
_"Hail to the ale! The golden brew.   
Hail to the ale! Tried and true.   
Don't trust your fate with another taste,   
Hail! Hail! Hail to the ale!"   
_  
It was not a song she could agree with, but she enjoyed the melody nonetheless. And Merry and Pippin were performing with impressive energy. How many drinking songs did they know? Their capacity to remember music must have been endless.   
  
"Peregrin Took's lass?"   
  
She looked down; she had not noticed the hobbit lord beside her until now. He, too, held a full mug.   
  
"I beg your pardon?"   
  
"You are the lass from Peregrin Took's house."   
  
"In a manner of speaking," she responded kindly.   
  
"You've had quite an adventure, haven't you?"   
  
"I'm not sure if 'adventure' is the proper word for it, but I have been blessed with the friends I've made so far."   
  
He nodded in acknowledgement.   
  
"Does the evening find you well, sir?" He did not answer. "Sir?"   
  
He motioned to her, as if preparing to tell her a secret. "Come close; something I would like to tell you."   
  
It was not the first time anyone wanted to whisper advice or tales into her ear tonight. With a smile, she bent low to hear him better.   
  
Without warning, he threw the ale in her face. She gasped in disbelief, hands flying to her face.   
  
"Quite an adventure, indeed!" He sneered. "You think you can come into our home in such a manner? Wounded the way you were, no doubt leading trouble into the lives of the innocent. What crime did you commit to deserve such a punishment?"   
  
The strong smell clogged her nostrils, made her cough. What did I do? She wondered frantically, feeling the sting of liquid as it seeped into her eyes. What did I do?   
  
Somewhere in the background, the singing had stopped, and Pippin was yelling. "Budoc! Stop it!" And others joined his outraged plea.   
  
"Get out of our home! You'll do nothing but bring chaos here!"   
  
Her throat went dry. "But...I've done nothing to--"   
  
"Hold your tongue!" He hurled the mug. Her reflex was automatic, and she managed to block the assault with her forearm, but the force of the blow was hard, and sent her stumbling. She slipped on spilled ale and fell, landing on one of the small tables, which broke beneath her. "Would have been best if that blasted horse of yours never came through here!"   
  
For the second time that night, everything went silent. But not for long. They had all witnessed what had taken place with a mixture of horror and anger. A few of them, including Merry, managed to restrain Budoc's strong arms, dragging him away from the girl. Pippin had pushed through the crowd, rushing to her side, his face distressed.   
  
"Are you alright?"   
  
She did not cry, did not speak, just sat there with a stunned look.   
  
But Budoc was not finished. "Foolish to bring her into your home, Peregrin Took! Have you any idea what trouble she will cause? You wait. I anticipate the day when problems come to our quiet homeland. She doesn't belong here; she must understand that, and so should you!"   
  
"Be silent, you stubborn Proudfoot!" Merry shouted, twisting his arm harshly. Some hobbits took charge and exchanged disgusted words with him.   
  
Pippin saw how distant the girl's face became, as if not focusing on anything. It worried him that she was not crying. He touched her cheek. "Milady, you need not listen to him. I think there are times when a Proudfoot has had far too much to drink."   
  
She heard, but did not listen. Still mute, still staring at nothing, she carefully pushed herself to her feet, trying not to slip on broken pieces of wood. Pippin offered to steady her, but she stood on her own. Tall she stood, wet strands of hair sticking to her face. She was looking at Budoc Proudfoot, tight-lipped and furious, hating her presence in their home. Was it possible that many of them felt the same way? Her posture was straight, her appearance brave, but anyone could see the anguish in her eyes. She walked towards the tavern door.   
  
Pippin went after her, but was stopped by Merry's voice.   
  
"Let her go. Both you and I know she wants to be alone, so leave her be. She knows the way home."   
  
He sighed in defeat, heeding Merry's advice. "You're a treasure," he called out before she left. She halted, but then continued. Everyone watched as she walked out, some of them muttering apologies, to which she chose not to respond. None of them knew how to comfort her.   
  
"It's better off," Budoc muttered, still in the clutches of four hobbits. "If we're lucky, she'll be gone by dawn."   
  
Pippin rounded on him, and everyone drew in a breath as they saw an emotion never possessed by the young Took: _fury_. Burning like tiny flames in his eyes.   
  
"You've crossed the line in more ways than one tonight."   
  
"She doesn't belong here, Peregrin! Don't you understand that?" Arms tightened around him.   
  
He stomped to him, prepared to smash his arrogant mouth with a granite fist. No one tried to stop him; the old Proudfoot deserved it. But he managed to control himself, and spoke in a low, dangerous tone. "It's not worth it." Pacing about, more thoughts began to surface. "How can you make such a statement? How can you, huh? Why doesn't she belong here? If she doesn't belong here, then you don't belong here; I don't belong here; none of us have the right to be here. I'm _insulted_ that you would treat a child so harshly, so thoughtlessly. And that goes for anyone else who has similar thoughts," he addressed the tavern. "I seem to remember our people as a kind, understanding sort. Even she believed in that. And now you shattered her belief," he directed to Budoc again. "She is not dangerous. It was not her fault she came to the Shire, and you know that. No, she has every right to be here, and you will not make me think otherwise. Any of you."   
  
They were in awe of his words, some casting their gazes down in disgrace. He had said his part, but looked at Budoc once more.   
  
"You were narrow-minded and cruel to a defenseless child. I hope you are proud of yourself." And he was finished speaking.   
  
Merry and the others released him. To their satisfaction, he truly looked to be mortified with his behavior. The feeling was renewed when some of the women slapped him upside the head and added disappointed words of their own. They would make sure that Budoc did not live this night down for a long time.   
  
The wildflowers were scattered on the floor. Pippin knelt and retrieved one that had not been damaged: a simple white blossom.   
  
******   
  
He found her in the commons room, sitting silently. Shining trails of tears saddened him, but also relieved him; internalizing one's feelings could surely drive him into madness. At least she was expressing her sorrow. He came to her side and touched her knee.   
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "none of this should have happened tonight." No response. "Are you in pain?"   
  
"Your friends hate me," she said flatly.   
  
His heart clenched with sorrow. "No, they don't."   
  
"I made such a mess over there."   
  
"Accidents happen. Besides, none of that was your fault."   
  
"They hate me, Pippin."   
  
"No, they don't." He put a hand under her chin. "If that were true, do you think Sam and Merry would come anywhere near you?"   
  
She did not answer, knowing he had made a good point.   
  
"Are you in pain?" He repeated patiently.   
  
"My arm."   
  
He prepared cool compress in the kitchen. Examining her closely, he found the large plum bruise covering her arm. "Goodness, he gave you a nasty flogging." He pressed the compress to the bruise, hearing her momentary hiss of discomfort. "It's a good thing you had such quick reflexes, or else the damage might have been worse. How's that?"   
  
"Better."   
  
He wiped her face clean, too. "I'm sorry you had to go through that ordeal."   
  
She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. I asked you to take me there."   
  
"It was no fault of yours, either." She seemed unconvinced. "Hey, look at me. Old Budoc has the disposition of a disgruntled bull. No need to take his words seriously; none of us do."   
  
"They still hurt," her voice cracked.   
  
"I know. He should have thought before opening his mouth. But you shall have justice, milady. Everyone reprimanded him for what he did to you, and he has recognized how horrible he really was. In fact, he asked me to deliver you a message: he is sorry, and he regrets the grief and pain he caused you. He knows it will take much to convince you of this, but he will try. He'll eventually be coming to apologize in person."   
  
She snorted. "Why should I accept an apology from him?"   
  
He could not believe how cold it sounded, and he did not appreciate it. "You listen to me, young lady," he said firmly. "Old Budoc may be stubborn, but at least he is willing to admit his follies and pay the price for them. All he is seeking is some closure, to know that you have room in your heart for forgiveness. And you want to deny him of that?" His eyes softened, imploring. He cupped her face in his hands. "Child, do not stoop to such a level. You hold more promise than that; I know it."   
  
The only pain worse than physical discomfort was the growing burn of shame. Even in the dim light, Pippin noticed the reddening of her cheeks, could feel the heat under his palms. Then she was crying, hard choking sobs.   
  
"It is possible to stand up for yourself without being unreasonable, and we will help you learn. Tell me, you were having fun tonight, weren't you?" She nodded. "I'm pleased to hear it. Do not base your opinion of an entire race on only one individual. There are many good people here; you will see. You would not judge me like that, would you?"   
  
She shook her head, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. Pleasantly surprised, Pippin returned the embrace. It was the first time she had hugged him.   
  
"Forgive me," she whispered harshly. "Forgive me. I will forgive him."   
  
He stroked her hair. "Hush now. Shh," he soothed. "Every tomorrow will hold new possibilities for you, and you are going to make the world proud. You've already learned a valuable lesson, milady." Then he remembered and pulled the lone white flower from his pocket. With a wavering smile, she accepted it, clutching the stem tightly. Had glad she was that he had saved it. She embraced him again, and for a time, the two rested that way: Pippin resting on her shoulder, the girl laying her head atop his. 


	8. An Elvish Link

The sword lay across the table, the blue-gray blade shining like the sea. The girl stared at it. For a while, she said nothing. She had been rendered speechless when Sam said it belonged to her. He could not decipher what emotion lay her eyes, but it looked to be one of pure and utter wonder, as if the sword was one of the most precious things she had ever seen.   
  
She focused on his reflection in the blade. "_My_ sword?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
She reached out with shaking fingers, stroking the hilt. Then her hand wrapped around it, lifting carefully, the blade reflecting beams of white light upon the walls. The hilt fit the curves of her palm perfectly.   
  
"Does it hold any significance to you?"   
  
She sighed. "No."   
  
He had desperately hoped it would have unblocked the barriers of her mind, as nothing had worked for an entire week. But he nodded. "It's alright. It was worth trying."   
  
She was still admiring it. "I like this; it's pretty." She ran a finger down the edge of the blade, gasping when she sliced her finger.   
  
"Careful!" Sam took her hand, examining the bleeding wound. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, blotting her finger gently. "Just a small nick. Cannot be overly cautious with weapons, milady, especially Elvish made ones. They stay sharp for many, many years."   
  
"Elvish?"   
  
He paused, then continued to give her aid. The bleeding had ceased quickly. "I'm not entirely sure, but I have no doubt that this sword was crafted by the Elven smiths." He pointed out the unique design and intricate patterns, and finally, the inscription near the hilt. "This only confirms my suspicions."   
  
Her brow furrowed. "What does it say?"   
  
"Analol, the name of the blade."   
  
"Analol," she echoed. "What does that mean?"   
  
"I haven't a clue. I've researched it for several days, trying to find an Elvish connection, but only hit dead ends."   
  
"Oh. Sam, why didn't you show me the sword in the first place?"   
  
"As a precaution. I was afraid it would make you nervous, you know, weapons and all. I wasn't sure about showing it to you, so I told Pippin to put it away."   
  
"I'm glad you decided to show me," she gracefully brought it before her face. "May I keep it?"   
  
He raised an eyebrow, turning her question over in his mind. Then he reached out and gently grabbed her wrist, regaining her attention from the sword, and looked into her eyes. "If I allow you to keep it in your possession, you have to do a few things for me. First of all, do not wield it around my girls. I know you would not intentionally hurt them, but weapons are dangerous, especially for very young children. Accidents can occur when we least expect them to. Next, do not show it off to the rest of the hobbits here. I don't mind you putting it on your belt, but they don't need any reason to think you may cause harm. We've worked so hard to gain their trust around you as it is. Lastly, and most importantly of all, never use it on anyone else. The use of this weapon should be reserved only if your life is in serious peril, no exceptions. I do not wish your hands to be stained with the blood of the innocent. Do you understand me?"   
  
In response, she sheathed the sword and nodded. "Yes."   
  
Sam smiled. "Good girl. This weapon is a remarkable instrument. Remember to take good care of it, and it shall last you many a long year. Now all that's left is to uncover your knowledge of the Elvish language."   
  
He could sense her pulling back when he mentioned it. "I do not know Elvish."   
  
"Ah, so you've said. But whenever you hear me speak it, it seems familiar to you, doesn't it?" She did not answer. Then he recited a quick verse in flowing Elvish words. Her gaze brightened, confirming his suspicion. She could not hide the truth from the hobbit. But what baffled him was when he noticed the shimmer of tears in her eyes. It was as if the words caused her heart great joy and grief at the same time. "What is it about the words that touches you so?"   
  
She shook her head, blinking back the premature tears. "I do not know. It just sounds so beautiful."   
  
"It is a beautiful language, and not one many mortals speak. Say this for me: _'quel andune."   
_  
_"'Quel andune,"_ she repeated, and Sam noted how perfectly she spoke. "What does it mean?"   
  
"Good afternoon. I wonder if you have any idea how natural the words sound coming from your mouth."   
  
"No, not really."   
  
"Well, I am telling you. Your accent is flawless; it was the same way when you spoke in your sleep, as if you have been speaking Elvish for several years."   
  
She shook her head. "But then why don't I understand it? I hear you, Merry, and Pippin rant on about how I must be connected with the Elves somehow, simply because I uttered a few words in my sleep. I wish I could understand it. I really do."   
  
He covered her hand with his. "It's strange and unfamiliar for you. I can see how hard this is on you, and I am sorry if you feel pressure from us. That is not what we intended. One way or another, we will find out what we can together. I want you to know that I think you have the potential to be a rather fluent speaker in the Elvish tongue." She looked at him gratefully, flattered by the comment. "Having said that, what would you say if I offered to teach you Elvish, milady?"   
  
He assumed her answer was yes, since she practically leapt over the table and hugged him tightly. Any trace of apprehension had vanished from her spirit. He laughed heartily as she picked him up a few inches of the floor. "Wait! I'll probably break your back," he joked. Hmm, her arms really _were_ strong.   
  
"Sam, how do you say 'thank you' in Elvish?"   
  
He grinned. _"Hannon lle."   
_  
_"Hannon lle,"_ she replied, setting him down carefully.   
  
"You're welcome. And since we're on the subject, there is one more question I've been meaning to ask you. I was wondering if you'd mind me asking a friend to come to the Shire."   
  
"A friend? You mean another hobbit?"   
  
"No, an Elf. His name is Legolas, prince of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood. We befriended him during a great quest."   
  
She tilted her head, impressed. "Legolas. An Elf prince? So you do know an Elf."   
  
"Aye. We met several years ago during the long journey, but he became one of our closest friends."   
  
"What quest is this you speak of?"   
  
"The quest to...Well, nevermind. That is a long story, and one we can tell you later. I just want to know if you would mind his involvement. It's possible he may know things I am not aware of, and perhaps he knows of you and can lead us to more answers. Elves are a very wise race and know almost everything there is to know about Middle-earth. He could also assist us in teaching you Elvish. The best teachers are the ones who already speak it. You may even gain a new ally in the process."   
  
She chewed her lower lip before looking at him again. "An Elf?"   
  
Her voice sounded a little timid again. "Yes. If it's any help, I trust him."   
  
She thought in silence for a while, and Sam chose not to interrupt. It had to be her choice. She was being careful, he realized. So far, the only friends she knew were hobbits. True, she could not trust just anyone, especially after waking in a world where she knew no one. And since the incident at the Green Dragon, she was more reluctant to meet some of the newer folks. Though she and Budoc had made their peace, she remained wary. Sam, Merry, and Pippin did their best to reassure her, and she was grateful to have them in her life. But if she guarded herself too closely, Sam feared she might never open up to anyone else, and therefore never regain her past. She had to emerge from the shell she often retreated into.   
  
"Is it worth it?" She finally asked.   
  
"Legolas coming to the Shire?"   
  
"No; helping me. If it seems hopeless, then you need not bother anyone into coming here. Is it worth it?"   
  
Sam's eyes softened. "Absolutely."   
  
She sighed to herself. "Do you really think he may be of some help to me?"   
  
"I do. And don't go calling yourself hopeless, either. There is always hope for anything. You just need to believe it."   
  
She chewed on her lip again, but finally looked more relaxed when she answered. "Then I believe in what you have told me. I would like to meet your friend, Legolas."   
  
As usual, Merry and Pippin were waiting for them. They greeted Sam and the girl when they emerged from the Gamgee's home.   
  
_"'Quel andune,"_ {Good afternoon.} the girl announced to the pair. They looked stunned, but Sam beamed.   
  
Pippin caught sight of the sheathed sword, which hung securely from her belt. "I see Sam has introduced you to Analol."   
  
Her hand went to the hilt. It felt strange to carry it at her side, and yet it did not. How odd. Oh well; she would grow used to it. "He has agreed to let me keep it."   
  
"Then you do not fear it?"   
  
"I do not."   
  
He was glad to hear it. Both he and Merry took her hands and followed Sam to a small patch of woods. She explained Sam's idea of bringing Legolas to the Shire, and their faces lit with excitement at the thought of their Elven friend visiting. It had been several years since they last saw him. Sam looked about, staring fixedly at the emerald green leaves. The other three were several feet behind him, curious expressions knitting their brows. They were not exactly sure of what he was doing. He just stood there, as if transfixed, not moving, not saying anything. What was he looking for?   
  
"Sam?"   
  
Bringing two fingers to his lips, he whistled sharply, the high-pitched noise echoing through the branches. Moments later, there was a response, almost mimicking Sam's initial whistle. A small shadow passed over his form, and the girl looked up, drawing in a slow breath of surprise. A large falcon circled above their heads, swooping lower and lower with each rotation. The warm sun brightened its brown feathers, causing them to shine like honey. She could not help but smile; it was the first time she had seen a falcon. The great bird eventually gave a few final flaps of its enormous wings, and landed gracefully on Sam's outstretched arm.   
  
He stroked the plumage with one finger, bringing her close to the group.   
  
"This is Fiwen, a messenger of Mirkwood. She was a gift from Legolas."   
  
"Ah yes, I remember you telling us about her," recalled Merry. "Glad to see she actually does exist."   
  
"Fiwen," the girl whispered, reaching out to touch the speckled feathers of her breast. They were incredibly soft. "She's beautiful."   
  
"Yes. Legolas told me anytime we were in need of his assistance, Fiwen will deliver the message, and he will set forth from Mirkwood."   
  
She nodded, giggling as the falcon forced her velvety head under her hand, begging to be caressed. Sam smiled, bringing Fiwen close to his lips. He uttered Elvish words to her, and the girl listened, fascinated. When he finished, he stepped back from the others, giving the bird room.   
  
"To Mirkwood, Fiwen, and make haste."   
  
Fiwen opened her wings and took off towards the sapphire sky. Gasping, the girl ran after her, seeing how long she could keep up.   
  
"Young one!" Merry called out, chasing after her. "Don't fly away with her! You may never come back down!"   
  
She laughed and continued to run, watching Fiwen fly until she became a small, dark speck in the distance. From behind, Merry tackled her legs and brought her down to the waving grasses. She squealed when he began to tickle her mercilessly.   
  
Pippin and Sam watched from afar, both smiling at the sight.   
  
"I have something I wanted to tell you something, Pip," Sam said.   
  
"What is it?"   
  
"Rosie has been making a dress for her, sort of as a welcoming gift. Nothing fancy, mind you, but appropriate attire for a young lady. Not that your clothes are unfit, but they will not suffice for long. Does that sound alright with you?"   
  
Pippin was staring at him, and Sam could have sworn his eyes were shimmering. Then he hugged him. Sam had to smile. It was the second time he had been suddenly embraced that day: first the girl, and now Pippin. How adorable. "She will love that. Thank you."   
  
Sam held up a hand. "Thank Rosie and the girls. They are the ones who discreetly took her measurements. It should be done in a day or so, probably by the time you extend your invitation to her. Speaking of which, when do you plan on doing so?"   
  
Pippin looked at the girl again, who had gone to her knees in order to be at Merry's height. He knew they were playing a game she referred to as "mirror," where she would copy everything Merry said or did. At the moment, Merry's arm was in the air, as was hers, in the exact same fashion. At one point, she stole a glance at Pippin and smiled.   
  
"Soon," he answered, "I plan on doing it soon."


	9. Twilight's Gift

It was early when Pippin touched the girl's cheek, gently waking her. Turning in her tangle of blankets, she squinted into the dim light of the room; the sun had not risen quite yet. When she met his face, she smiled.   
  
"Morning," she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep.   
  
"Good day, milady. I know it is early, but Rose has asked for your assistance this morning."   
  
"At her home?"   
  
"Yes. Something about keeping her children occupied while she works in the kitchen."   
  
"How soon?"   
  
"As soon as you can."   
  
Yawning deeply, she nodded. "Alright. Just give me a moment to wake up."   
  
He already held out a mug of tea to her. "Thought this might help you along."   
  
"You read my mind." She accepted it gratefully, the herbal liquid immediately sending warmth throughout her veins with the first sip. Soon, she was well stretched and on her feet, the last traces of sleepiness melting away with the rising sun. After braiding her hair back, grabbing two apples, and giving Pippin a departing hug, she made her way out of the burrow and onward to Sam and Rose's home.   
  
Pippin watched her from the window. He was amazed at how readily she assisted most of the hobbits here, and at the same time it made him proud. She simply enjoyed helping others. What a rare quality to find in the younger generations. The girl had already disappeared over the hills, but he continued to watch the outside world expectantly.   
  
About an hour later, he smiled when Merry and Sam came into view, each carrying large cloth bundles in their arms. Pippin greeted them outdoors.   
  
"Here as promised," Merry announced, giving the other hobbit's shoulder a friendly squeeze.   
  
"Good. She made it over to your place?" Pippin asked Sam.   
  
"Bright and early. Should have seen how happy that made my girls. Rosie promised to keep her busy until later today, so we have no reason to worry."   
  
He helped Sam with his bundle. "And does she suspect anything?"   
  
"Not likely. She thinks I am on my way to Merry's for the day."   
  
"Perfect. Let's get to it, lads."   
  
  
  
"Can't you just tell me what this is about?" The blindfolded girl asked, stepping carefully as she was led forward.   
  
"You know better than that. If we told you, it would ruin the surprise," Pippin said, the smile apparent in his voice. As requested, Rose had brought her back to the burrow in the afternoon, a scarf tied around her eyes. She, Sam, Merry, Elanor, and Goldilocks tagged along behind them silently, save for a few giggles from the younger pair. They were not giving her any hints, although they emitted vibes of restrained excitement.   
  
"What is going on?"   
  
He paused. "Do you trust me?"   
  
Her hand tightened around his automatically. "Yes."   
  
The affirmation made his face light. Leading the way, and making sure to watch for molehills or errant tree roots, he brought her to the other side of his home. Aside from confusion, he could also detect the hint of inquisitiveness marking her brow, and nervousness began to fill the pit of his stomach. Eventually, she felt Pippin come to a halt. "Alright, you may look."   
  
Untying the scarf, the darkness was instantly replaced by the familiar sight of the burrow...and the strange cream-colored tent erected beside it. She stared at it, puzzled. Where had it come from?   
  
She glanced down at Pippin. "What is this?"   
  
"A tent, silly!" he teased.   
  
She pushed him playfully. "I know, but what is it for?"   
  
"Questions shall be answered, young one," announced Merry, "but first, take a look inside."   
  
"How come?"   
  
"Just look. You'll like it," he grinned.   
  
She arched an eyebrow. "Will I?"   
  
He feigned hurt. "Come now, are you telling me you don't believe me?"   
  
Her hands rested akimbo. "Well, you did say I would like ale."   
  
Pippin laughed out loud.   
  
"I assure you this time is different," he chuckled.   
  
He and Pippin held the flaps open to grant her access, and she bent down and slipped inside. There was enough room to fit herself and a couple of hobbits, the entire atmosphere cozy and pleasant. But upon entering, something immediately caught her eye. Lying on the ground was a package, wrapped in a wool blanket and tied with blue ribbon. Retrieving it, she brought the package outdoors to show them her discovery. Six pairs of eyes watched her with anticipation.   
  
"For me?"   
  
Pippin nodded. "From the Gamgees. Open it."   
  
"But what is the occasion?"   
  
"Open it," they all encouraged.   
  
Now plagued with curiosity, she sat and untied the ribbon, drawing back the corners of the blanket. When she found its contents, she drew in a breath. Neatly folded clothes of gray. But upon closer inspection, she realized it was not merely clothing: it was a dress with long sleeves and a long, flowing skirt.   
  
"Oh," she sighed in awe, holding the gray outfit in front of her. The entire length of the skirt tumbled to the ground. "You made me a dress."   
  
"Aye. And don't forget these," Rose pointed to the bloomers and undergarments sitting beneath the dress. The girl immediately turned a heated beet-red, much to the amusement of the others. "Specially tailored just for you. You've been running around in hobbits' clothes for a while, so we wanted you to have something to call your own."   
  
"How did you find time to do this?"   
  
"Any spare moment we had was spent making clothes for you. The girls and I pieced together a couple of old blankets, since they provided enough fabric for someone of your height. It is not much, but--"   
  
"It's perfect, Rose." Gratitude lay deep in her eyes, filling their hearts with warmth. The dress was going to fit; she knew this without even trying it on. Studying the bodice, she traced a familiar embroidery pattern stitched there. Green vines that twisted from the neck to the waist. When she realized what it was, her face broke into a huge grin. "You made this part out of Pippin's shirt!"   
  
Rose laughed. "You've been so comfortable in his clothes, I thought you would appreciate it."   
  
Pippin blushed. The others chuckled heartily.   
  
"An ensemble truly representative of the Shire, young one," Merry stated.   
  
"Thank you so much, Rose, girls," she hugged the garment to her chest, "I will treasure it."   
  
Goldilocks and Elanor appeared elated with her reaction. "Do you really like it?"   
  
"I love it."   
  
"I'm glad to hear it," said Rose, "because we are making a few more for you."   
  
The girl looked slightly stunned. "More?"   
  
"Yes. You need clothes that fit, dear, and we are going to provide them for you."   
  
A dazed smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you."   
  
"Do you like the tent too, lass?" Sam finally asked.   
  
The unexpected question caught her off guard. "Oh, yes. Why?"   
  
The hobbits were looking at Pippin, who slowly shuffled forward and met her eyes. "It is for you, milady."   
  
She blinked. Why did he seem so anxious all of a sudden? "I do not understand."   
  
"Think of it as your own quarters, a place for you to sleep," he explained. "I do not want you sleeping on the hard floor anymore; no doubt it gives you a sore back by sunrise. Merry, Sam and I have worked on constructing this the entire morning. This way, you won't have to curl up in the cramped commons room every night, and you can even stand up straight without hitting your head. Not much yet, but we can fix it up. The grass is always soft enough to sleep on, but we left a few blankets out here in case you needed them. It stays rather warm in the Shire for the most part. However, if the weather is ever inclement or cold, then of course you will stay in the burrow. It should be large enough for you, and we can easily add onto it as you grow older." He shifted uneasily from one large foot to the other. "I wanted to give you a room, but I had to settle for this. If you would like it, I want you to have it."   
  
"But...but why? Why do I deserve such kindness from you? From any of you?"   
  
"Because we thought it would make you feel more like a part of the Shire."   
  
The girl watched him carefully, cocking her head at his response. Then she remembered the vague remark Pippin had made: ...we can easily add onto it as you grow older. Wait, was he implying..."What do you mean?"   
  
Licking his lips, he looked at his friends, gathering the last bit of reassurance he needed. "I am not sure how to word this, so I am just going to say it. I know things have been strange for you these past few weeks, but you have proven to be a wonderful young lady, and a good friend. And I speak for everyone when I say we are honored to have you in our lives." Everyone was nodding in agreement. "Having said that, I would like to invite you to stay, and call the Shire your home."   
  
Her blue eyes widened, and everything seemed to come to a halt. Had she heard him right? Pippin had asked her live with him in his home? She had been so sure the hobbits would take her elsewhere, to a village where many humans resided, to be amongst her own race. It was not exactly eager about the idea. But now Pippin had voiced a secret desire she had harbored since the first night. The others were smiling, waiting to hear her response, confirming she had heard him correctly. "Y-you want me to stay?"   
  
"Of course. I have thought long and hard about this, and to me, it just feels...right. Then I asked the others their thoughts, and they support my decision." He took her hand in his. "We've not known each other long, but I cannot imagine you leaving my life, child."   
  
There was silence, save for the delicate breeze tickling their faces.   
  
Pippin swallowed, still nervous. "Do you need to think it over?"   
  
Slowly, she shook her head no. He felt his heart stop briefly. But then she unexpectedly yanked him against her chest, arms locking around him as if she had never been hugged before. Her face was buried in his shoulder. She was shaking, but was it from tears? Happiness? Sorrow? Whatever it was, Pippin found himself running his hands over her back in long, comforting movements.   
  
Sniffling, she broke her silence. "I wasn't sure you wanted me..."   
  
"Hey, shh..."   
  
"...but I was hoping you would." When she pulled back, he was relieved to see not tears, but a smile. "I cannot leave the one who brought me back from darkness and nothingness, just to be thrown into a situation I do not know. No. _This_ is what I know," she indicated the Shire around them. "And you--all of you--are who I know. Pippin, you brought me back to life, and I don't think I will ever be able to repay the debt. I would love to live here with you; in the Shire."   
  
The others let out a unified cry of joy. Elanor and Goldilocks began dancing around in circles. The weight of all Pippin's troubles suddenly lifted, causing him to stand a few inches taller, the brightest of smiles crossing his face. She was going to stay! He could see the tears of rapture causing her eyes to shine. He cupped her cheek, and enveloped her in his arms again. "I am so glad to hear it, milady."   
  
"Good thing, too," Sam was grinning, "because do you honestly think my girls were going to give you up without a fight?"   
  
Merry laughed. "Not just the girls, but all of us! We've grown quite fond of your presence, young one, and we want you to know it."   
  
Nodding, she whispered, "I can feel it."   
  
One by one, the hobbits came close, wishing to be part of this moment, and they were soon wrapped in a group hug. Euphoria was a warm river flowing through her veins, and she continued to hold the Took in her embrace.   
  
"Welcome to your home," said Pippin.   
  
She gave a contented sigh. _"Hannon lle, melloneamin."_ {Thank you, my friends.}   
  
  
  
Sunset loomed less than an hour away, painting the sky with pastel hues, which grew softer as time passed. On a hill, the girl sat quietly, simply watching the transition from day into night. Donning her gray dress, she truly felt more a part of the Shire than ever before. How beautiful the Shire was. Possessing such calmness. It smelled calm; felt calm; filled her with calm. Over the course of the past few weeks, she discovered she rather enjoyed moments like this, but she could not put her finger on why. Was it possible that she loved sunsets before losing her memory?   
  
As Sam had said, anything could be possible.   
  
Footfalls rustled the grass behind her. She did not have to turn to know who approached. She smiled as Pippin took his place beside her on the hill.   
  
The others had departed earlier, following the incredible dinner Rose and Sam had put together. It was a private celebration for them, and soon the entire Shire would learn it had a permanent resident within its luscious green barriers.   
  
She grinned mischievously. "Did you enjoy washing the dishes?"   
  
He stuck his tongue out, but chuckled. "You know chores and me: a match made in Mordor!"   
  
"I offered to help, you know."   
  
"I know, but this day was devoted to you, so I wanted to give you to enjoy it." He rolled back his sleeves, which were still soaked with water.   
  
"And you claim Proudfoots are stubborn," she joked.   
  
"Hey now," he pushed at her gently, then took in the scenery. "Goodness, what a lovely sunset."   
  
"Yes. A fire which burns beautifully..." she trailed off.   
  
He gazed at her. "A good description indeed." But he detected something in her eyes, a type of unfocused, deep thought. "Are you alright?"   
  
"I am," it came out quickly.   
  
"You look as though you need to talk."   
  
Her fingers laced uncertainly.   
  
"I am here; you can talk to me."   
  
Yes, I can talk to you, she thought. "When Sam told me I said 'father' in my sleep, I was not quite sure how to react. Obviously, I cannot remember anyone before that night, so it was a bit of a shock to learn. But after I thought about it, I could not help but be rather hopeful. Perhaps if I was with him, then he may seek me out some day. Although, I would have thought he might have come for me by now..." There was a pause. "I don't know; I would just like to know who my father is. I would like to know someone who is associated with my past." She looked off into the distance. "Do you think my father is really out there?"   
  
Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, "I know you have a father, and he loves you very, very much." He saw her close her eyes, savoring the words. "Tell me what it is you want."   
  
She looked at him, her friend and comfort, and replied evenly. "I wish to remain here with you, but I would also like to find my father, Pippin."   
  
"Then this I swear to you: I promise I will do anything and everything I can to help you find your father."   
  
That promise meant more to her than any words could ever express. "Thank you," she whispered sincerely.   
  
"You're most welcome, milady."   
  
As he said it, a sad smile crossed her face, though she hoped he would not notice.   
  
He noticed. "Something still troubles you?"   
  
She seemed a little reluctant to speak. "No, not exactly. More like...bothers me."   
  
"What is it?"   
  
Sighing, she confessed, "If anything, I wish I could remember my name. Not that I mind, but I do not want everyone to call me 'milady' the rest of my life. I'd like to be known as...someone."   
  
The situation was inevitable. He rubbed his chin a moment, then smiled shyly to himself. "If I may be so bold, may I choose a name for you?"   
  
Her heart swelled. "I would very much like that."   
  
He needed no time to think about it. "May I call you Laredith?"   
  
She considered it only briefly before answering, "Yes." His smile was contagious. "You have thought about this for a while, haven't you?"   
  
Gripping her hand, he said, "I have put much thought into what you deserve."   
  
One of her arms looped around his shoulders. Looking upon her, it was as if she was glowing with a whole new light. "Does this mean you're going to spoil me rotten?"   
  
He smirked. "To a certain extent."   
  
"Thank you. For everything."   
  
"You're welcome, Laredith," he said, "our lady of the Shire."   
  
She liked the sound of that. A new home, a new name, all leading to a life she hoped to always remember. I am home, she thought to herself. The sun had become a glowing red ball in the distance, slowly being swallowed by the horizon. Human and hobbit sat side by side, a renewed sense of happiness between them, and together they welcomed the approaching night.


	10. The Elf Prince

CHAPTER 10: The Elf Prince 

Another entered the Shire, one whose heart sang upon crossing within its borders. In fact, all of nature seemed to rejoice at his presence. Unseen by others, he slipped through towering trees and wild grasses, moving ever onward towards his destination. Even his steed could sense his happiness, and tossed his gray-speckled head gracefully. He stroked the stallion's neck soothingly, muttering to him in a quiet voice, and encouraged him on. How close this country was to the Western waters of Middle-earth. How lucky the halflings were to live so near those beautiful, ever-changing sapphire seas...

----------

Sam was impressed at how quickly Laredith learned Elvish over the following month. It would eventually arrive at a point where he could no longer teach her anything new, let alone keep up with her. He watched her carefully with each passing day. It was apparent to the hobbit that she held much potential for one her age, and he only hoped great opportunities would arise for her.

Perhaps that time would come quickly. Fiwen had returned over two weeks ago, which meant Legolas had received his message, and would be arriving very soon. Unfortunately, it was difficult to say when. He told Laredith, who smiled, saying she would wait patiently for the coming of the Elf prince. The mere words brought him much comfort, giving him the reassurance he needed to get through each and every day.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Sam looked up from his gardening duties and released a heavy sigh. It was an unusually warm autumn day, but he had to get the rest of the weeds pulled. Somewhere in the distance, he knew Laredith was watching over his daughters, no doubt playing games to keep them entertained. The girls, of course, were delighted to have someone to consider their nanny, and Rosie enjoyed having another young lady in her presence. He chuckled to himself as he thought about Pippin and Merry, who were actually assisting Farmer Maggot in his fields. Rosie had pointed out how stealing crops would be a poor example to set for Laredith. So, reluctantly, they agreed to work in exchange for food. How shocked everyone was to see the Took working fairly for once! What an impact the young one must have had on him!

Perhaps this situation would be the best thing for him.

A sudden breeze picked up, a very gentle, calming breeze, just enough to cool the warmth of his skin. Strange, there had hardly been any breezes today, so this was an unexpected treat. Inhaling deeply, he savored the fresh scent of the outdoors and all its natural perfume, briefly forgetting the job he had yet to finish.

"The sun seems to favor your garden more than any other in the Shire, Master Gamgee."

Startled, Sam turned to meet the legs of a great gray stallion. One he knew by the name of Arod. Upon him sat a tall Elf in dark green clothes, the sunlight causing his silvery-blonde hair to shine. They had approached silently, but Sam smiled nonetheless.

"Well, bless me!" He said, wiping loose dirt on his pants. "You've not changed one bit since I last saw you."

Legolas Greenleaf greeted him with a nod. "Good day to you, Sam. It is wonderful to see you again."

"Likewise. Your trip was well?"

"I am pleased to say the journey was pleasant," he dismounted, standing far above the smaller being. "My apologies for the prolonged wait; I would have arrived sooner if I could."

Sam shook his head. "Need not apologize, my friend. We have nothing but time here, and all that matters is your safe arrival."

He nodded. "Never before have I witnessed the beauty of the Shire for myself," he scanned their surroundings with fondness. "And now that I have, I can honestly say I envy you and your people."

"You are always welcome here, Legolas. Make no mistake about that."

He appreciated the declaration. "Thank you. Well, onto more important matters: I understand you have much to report, judging by the message I received."

"Aye. Much has happened in a short amount of time."

"Tell me about this child you spoke of."

"All in due time. But come, sit and rest, and you are no doubt hungry after days of riding. We have some oats for Arod, too. Think he'd enjoy that? And what better chance for me to give you every detail pertaining to our young charge?"

While they ate, Sam proceeded to give Legolas a full account of Laredith's coming. He listened intently, his bright eyes flashing once in a while, particularly when he heard details of her wounds and unexplainable memory loss. When Sam finished, he remained quiet. Whatever thoughts were presently stirring within the Elf, Sam could not be sure; his face revealed nothing.

But then he finally spoke. "And how can I be of assistance as far as she is concerned?"

"Well, first off, she speaks Elvish. It occurred in her sleep, and she also reacts to it quite strangely. It's as if she knew the language before her memory loss. And with the pace that she is learning Elvish, there is no doubt in my mind she once knew it. We thought perhaps she is somehow associated with your race, and by some slight chance you might recognize her. If not, then maybe you know someone else who knows her." Was he saying that right?

But he seemed to comprehend. "A good plan."

"She has a sword, too. One called Analol, and looks to be made by Elvish hands. Does the name mean anything to you?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"A mystery still," he sighed. "And then there's the arrow: we suspect it was poisoned somehow, but we cannot be sure."

"I would know."

"I am glad to hear it."

"Where is this girl, Sam?"

----------

They did not have to venture far from the Gamgee's burrow. Over a few small hills, the sound of voices became more and more audible, until they found the source. Down in the meadow, Elanor, Goldilocks, and several hobbit children were laughing and crying out happily. Above them stood Laredith, blindfolded, arms seeking the young ones running about her feet.

"Don't be caught by the bog monster!" Came the frequent chant.

She listened for voices and took uncertain steps in every direction. Numerous times, they watched her stumble and fall, but she was enjoying it immensely. When they came close enough, she would grin and lunge at them with a "_ROAR!_" Screeching and scattering ensued as she dove face first into the grass.

Sam had to laugh.

Even Legolas gave a calm smile. "So this is the child."

"Aye." They stood on the hill and watched a while, amused at her ungraceful staggering, struggling to keep her balance as two children hopped on her back. She was laughing so hard that it worsened her coordination. In the end, she was unsuccessful and fell again.

Removing the blindfold, she sprawled upon the grass, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. The girls snuggled up to her, begging her to chase them "Again! Again!" She ruffled their curls of hair, telling them she needed a rest. As she lay there, she closed her eyes, savoring the heat of the sun's rays against her skin. If only every day was as perfect as this. She listened while the others resumed playing, enjoying their excited shrieks and sweet voices, and limitless energy.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped softly. A stranger stood above her. Far above her. He said nothing, but only looked at her with a pleasant face. This tall individual obviously was not a hobbit. She stared at him, head tilted in curiosity. "Hello."

The innocence of her voice caused a smile to tug at his lips. How charming. "Hello."

"Have you come to play?"

He seemed a bit taken aback, but his smile remained.

She jumped up when Sam cleared his throat; she had not seen him there. "As you can see, we have another guest. An Elvish friend you have been wanting to meet."

When realization dawned on her, a pink tinge came to her face. "Oh!" Quickly, she pushed herself to her feet.

It was the first time she had to look up to see someone's face. The Elf was very tall, clad in clothes of brown and green. The contours of his face were delicately chiseled, and she could not decide whether to call him fair or handsome. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue, causing the rest of his face to glow with an unusual light. Hobbits had rumored of the beauty possessed by the Elves; now she realized the truth of those rumors. Looking at him brought within her a calmness she had previously not achieved...and yet, she had no idea why.

"Laredith, this is Legolas, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. Legolas, this is our Laredith."

He gave her a polite bow, giving her a closer view of his pointed ears. "We meet at last, Laredith."

She smiled broadly. "You are the Elf prince."

"I am."

"_Saesa omentien lle_." Pleasure meeting you There appeared to be a flicker of approval in his gaze. "Am I supposed to bow?"

He momentarily arched an eyebrow at the unexpected question, but gave a small smile. "Worry not, milady. Such formalities are unnecessary, though I appreciate your respect." She sighed in relief, and he had to suppress an urge to chuckle. "Allow me to show you a method of salutations practiced by myself and my friends." He proceeded to demonstrate, touching his right hand to his left shoulder. She copied his movements. "Now we are properly introduced."

"I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"The feeling is mutual. As I understand it, you have been through quite an ordeal."

Her smile wavered. "Well, at least, we think it's been an ordeal..."

Thankfully, he changed subjects. "You have grass in your hair."

"What? Oh," she pulled stray blades from her golden spirals. "That's what I get for rolling on the ground."

He was not sure why he was grinning. "Here," Legolas assisted, removing anything his sharp eyes could find. He decided not to tell her there were also smudges of dirt on her face.

"Hannon lle." She looked down when Elanor and Goldilocks clutched to her hands, staring at the Elf and whispering to one another. "So...would you like to play bog monster with us?"

He chuckled. "And I suppose you must be the bog monster?"

"Who better to play the part? Unless you would be willing to be my substitute."

"Do I really look like a monster?"

The pink hue of her face became red. "No... not at all..."

He chuckled again.

Sam cut in. "Perhaps games would be best saved for another day. I say you ought to get yourself home for the evening, Laredith. Pippin should be home soon, and he'll want to see Legolas, too."

"Yes, you are right." The girls groaned in disappointment.

"Now now, you'll see her tomorrow," Sam reprimanded.

Laredith took time to bid the other hobbit children a good evening. Behind them, the Elf and older hobbit spoke quietly to one another. "She seems to be quite pleasant, Sam."

"You have no idea. However, you can tell the amnesia truly bothers her heart."

"You are certain?"

"Just look in her eyes; she may come across as purely happy, but I know better than that. There's a bit of heart-sickness being covered by her smile."

"She has a lovely smile."

"I know."

He knelt close to Sam, looking directly into his eyes. "At some point, I wish to see this arrow she was struck with. I feel there is some merit to your beliefs."

After returning to the Gamgee's home, Laredith hugged Sam and the girls while Legolas retrieved Arod. She opted to walk instead of riding, and he also chose to travel on foot. The horse wore no saddle or bridle, but walked obediently by the Elf's side. Together, they traversed several paths and grassy hills on the way to Pippin's burrow, talking about anything that came to mind.

"He was a gift?" She asked of Arod.

"Yes. A steed of Rohan, given to me by Éomer, son of Éomund."

"He is quite lovely."

Arod's ears perked forward.

Legolas smiled. "He appreciates the compliment and says you may pet him."

Glancing at the horse, she hesitated. "Will he bite?"

He halted, bringing her hand to Arod's long, elegant neck. "Like this, milady." She stroked the satiny fur, and he stood quietly while the mortal caressed him. "He is normally high-strung around others, but he has been quite calm around you. You must have some degree of kinship with horses."

She shrugged. "I doubt it; I was told my horse ran off when I came to the Shire. What kind of kinship does that qualify as?"

"Circumstances must have been different that night. Something must have spooked your steed terribly to cause him to react in such a manner. All I know is you might have more of an understanding for these creatures than you realize."

"Maybe." She touched Arod's velvet nose. "I don't even remember how to ride a horse."

"Would you like to learn?"

"I would."

"Very well. Perhaps there will be a time to teach you equitation."

A giggle bubbled in her throat. "And maybe I can learn how to talk to them."

"Yes, there is that as well. There are ways of reaching into the minds of those born in the wild. I am certain I can guide you towards that talent."

Her face turned doubtful. "Oh, I was only joking. I doubt I could acquire such a skill."

"Doubting leads to downfall, milady. How do you know unless you try?" She blushed. "It takes many years to master the ability, but it is not limited only to Elves."

"Really?"

"Really. Why else do you think the horse masters of Rohan have such strong bonds with their horses?"

She smiled. Arod nudged her hand. Giving him a final pat, she continued walking until the Took's burrow became visible in the distance. 

----------

An exhausted Pippin returned home near sunset, a large sack of vegetables in his hands. Never had he worked so hard in his life in exchange for food! Calluses and blisters marked his palms, and dirt had turned his hands a dull black. However, when Laredith threw her arms around him in greeting, his heart revived. Suddenly, the work had all been worth it.

"Am I ever glad to see you." He rubbed at his sore shoulders. "I know I should be setting good examples for you, but I do not want this to become part of my routine!"

She laughed. "Too much excitement for you?"

He shuddered. "What a sin to call it 'excitement.' Farmer Maggot actually pulls out the weeds in the gardens. Not just most of them, but _every single_ weed! Each time we pulled one out, ten more seemed to spring up! It never ended."

"A job well done is a satisfactory one."

Pippin turned, seeking the one who had spoken aloud. He spied Legolas standing beside the trees; he had blended in remarkably with the surroundings. "Well, I'll be! It is wonderful to see you, Legolas! When did you arrive?" He bounded to the Elf happily, and the two shared a joyful reunion. Laredith chose to slip aside, allowing them to catch up with one another.

With the vegetables Pippin had brought, she prepared a stew for dinner. A small fire was kindled outside and they all sat about the flames in comfort. Legolas talked at length about Mirkwood. His tales fascinated Laredith, whose ears absorbed every word about his race. The history of his kind was of particular interest to her and she frequently peppered him with questions, and he appreciated her attentiveness. Pippin spoke of the Shire, of Frodo's final days before sailing for Valinor, Merry, Sam, Rose and the girls, ale, food, songs. He also went into detail about the girl's trials and triumphs, causing her to blush several shades of red; she felt unworthy of such attention from him.

But Legolas enjoyed his spirited tales immensely. "Fortune has smiled upon you and your people for many a year."

"In more ways than one." Pippin stole a half-smile towards Laredith. "How long do you plan to stay with us?"

"Since I have no previous engagements to occupy my time, I intended to stay for the month. That is, if it is not any trouble."

Laredith's face was split by a smile.

"Bite your tongue!" Pippin exclaimed. "We would be happy to accommodate you for as long as you're here."

"And Pippin speaks for me," she pulled the hobbit close.

Legolas watched how affectionate they were with one another. It was a refreshing sight indeed; he knew mortals were far more open with emotions than his Elven kind. His expression was serene as he gave a short nod. "Hannon lle, melloneamin. And now I have a small request," he set his bowl on the ground. "Sam mentioned she had been struck by an arrow."

He swallowed and nodded.

"He reported that you were in possession of the item. I would like to see it."

Pippin glanced at Laredith, his eyes speaking to hers. A bit of pain had resurfaced, but there was also a clear indication she understood what had to be done. He stood and went into the burrow, returning with a folded cloth in his hands. He noted how she turned away, not wanting to look at the weapon, for it made her uneasy.

Legolas, who had secretly observed her the entire time, accepted the cloth, placing it in his pouch. "Give me a day to analyze this, and I should be able to find some answers for you."

----------

After supper, Laredith had finished the dishes and made ready for bed. Pippin wrapped his arms around her, and she lifted him off the ground in her usual manner, bidding him good night.

Coming around to the side of the burrow, she saw Legolas lying beside the dying fire, simply staring at the sky. For a moment, she stood there, unsure whether or not he was asleep. Though his eyes remained open, he certainly showed no indication of movement. When he noticed he had an audience, he sat upright in one fluid movement. He studied her, noting how her round face gave her an angelic appearance. But in her deep blue eyes, he could detect the faintest traces of feeling lost. "Is anything wrong?"

She blinked. "No. I am sorry; I have disturbed you."

"Nonsense. It is your home and you have every right to investigate."

"Still, even a guest deserves privacy," she shrugged. "Are you sure you do not need shelter? I can stay in the burrow if you would prefer the tent."

He waved his hand. "I appreciate your offer, but I am content to sleep outside. It is certainly not the first time I have done so. Besides, being close to the trees reminds me of my home."

"Of course. Legolas, I wanted to thank you for coming to us. Your presence here is already so...comforting. I cannot quite explain it, but thanks."

"My pleasure," he said sincerely. "Know that I fully intend to help you while I am here. Whatever might have happened to you, we will uncover the truth in time. You have friends here. We will do whatever we can."

"Do you really think it's possible to discover what has been lost, even if the odds are against you?"

He watched her a moment, then nodded. "Yes. As long as there is hope in your heart, then it is possible to uncover your past."

A timid smile appeared; he had understood. Turning towards the tent, she paused and licked her lips. "I did have one favor to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"Pippin told me he chose the day I came to the Shire as my birthday. I was wondering...by some chance, could you tell me how old I am?"

He stared, not saying a word. She swallowed uneasily; had she said anything to insult the Elf? But then stood and came close until he was hovering above her and raised a hand to her forehead. Tensing, she held her breath. "Relax." Closing his eyes, he touched two fingers to her skin. It was confusing, but she did not dare move, choosing to observe her Elvish companion. Legolas had gone still as a statue, and for a moment she almost believed he was not real. An intense concentration had taken over as he delved further, deeper and deeper into her heart, allowing his senses to explore as he sought some sort of indication...searching, reaching, looking...

He opened his eyes and smiled. "You are thirteen years old."

Calmness overtook her senses. "_Hannon lle. 'Quel du_, Legolas." Good night

"_'Quel du, Laredith. _Rest well." He watched her enter the tent, then settled onto the grass once more. The day had been one full of cheerful memories, and it brought him immense satisfaction. He was fully aware of the folded cloth in his pouch, but now was not the time to worry about such things. Gazing at the stars, he breathed deeply and evenly, letting the scenery wrap him in its sweet embrace.

Inside the tent, Laredith sighed contentedly, drifting to sleep on peaceful thoughts. Late in the night, she did not dream, but was haunted by a distant, faraway voice: _Noro lim! Noro lim!_


	11. Delving Deeper

"Won't I fall over?"

"Not if you keep your head up and your body in proper alignment."

"I don't think I can do this."

"Laredith, if you let that thought enter your mind, then it will come true. Now, sit up and concentrate on balancing. That is most important," Legolas instructed. 

Sitting atop Arod, Laredith sat up straighter and lifted her arms, making them parallel to the ground. Sam had offered to let her train on Bill, his gentle pony, but it was clear that she had outgrown the smaller steed. The tall stallion was a more reasonable choice. Her hands shook, and Arod could easily sense her nervousness, causing him to dance around awkwardly. Fortunately, Legolas had a firm hold on the stallion's muzzle in case anything was to happen. Arod had plenty of patience, but if he knew his rider was uneasy, he would make it clear.

"You are not in control, and he is well aware."

"Then he is a wise creature," she grasped his mane again.

"You cannot allow him to establish dominance over you. As a master, that is your part." 

"I know, but..."

His voice was soft. "This pattern of self-doubt will continue unless you choose to end it. If you decide to let it conquer you, then it will envelope you until you cannot breathe, and you shall falter. Have faith in the ability you possess deep inside. A key to kinship between horse and rider is trust, and you are not allowing yourself to do so. How can you learn to trust others if you do not learn to trust yourself? And, in turn, how can others learn to trust you?"

She lifted her head. The Elf had an extremely good point. She and the hobbits had developed a mutual respect for one another, so why should this be any different?

He could detect an understanding in her eyes. "Show me balance," he said.

Lifting her arms, she concentrated on finding her middle. It could be felt deep in the pit of her stomach, and she focused all of her energy there, evenly distributing her weight across Arod's backside. As she did so, her seat felt much more comfortable. Her pulse slowed, and the ground did not seem so far away anymore. Arod's ears flicked forward as her relaxation increased. Yes, this was much nicer. Taking another breath, she leaned forward and backward slightly, letting herself feel different positions. As she did so, Arod released a content sigh, and had ceased his awkward dance.

Legolas smiled. "Well done, milady. Now, I want you to ask him to walk on, but worry not: I will keep a hold on him. Apply pressure to his sides with your heels. Gently. Very good. As he walks, simply feel his rhythm, and let yourself move along with it." He led them to the edge of some woods, allowing her to adjust to the horse's movements. Her hands did not seek his mane again. Another good sign. They walked around for several minutes, Arod moving fluidly, and enjoyment finally marking Laredith's features.

"Very good. I believe that will do for today."

"Yes. Thank you, Legolas," she swung her leg over and slid off the stallion. "He is a good lad to learn on." Arod whickered, turning to nudge his head against her chest. She grinned, stroking his muzzle. "And you are aware of it, aren't you?"

Legolas would not speak it aloud, but the girl was unaware of how strong her kinship with horses already was. Arod would respond to no one the way he responded to her. It was proof enough that at one time, her connections with animal spirits must have been strong. As time moved on, she would come to know this fact.

Her dark blue eyes glanced at him. "I want to try again soon," she added brightly.

He nodded. "In due time. But now we must end our lessons until another day. I suspect Pippin is waiting for your return."

At the utterance of Pippin's name, she smiled and dashed back to the burrow. Arod looked after her longingly, as if to ask where she was going. This caused Legolas to chuckle. "Another time. Grown attached already, have you?" The horse gave a long sigh. Legolas patted him reassuringly. "Come. I have a promise to uphold."

The remainder of the afternoon found Legolas delving into his examination of the arrow. He rotated the white item in its cloth, taking great care to not let any portion of it touch his skin. The tip of it was still stained with Laredith's blood, which had turned a rusty brown color with time. Normally, he could tell what race or tribe had fired the weapon just by looking at it. There were distinct features on certain arms according to such factors: markings, feathers, even metals. Unfortunately, he could not decipher this one. Simply a small, white arrow, most likely crafted from the trunk of a white tree. He had not seen it before in his long life. It worried him; the thought of anyone wanting to harm the child was disconcerting. What had happened to her that night? And why? He studied it, sniffed at it, and slowly leafed through the book he had brought along with him. He always thought it wise to possess some form of Elvish wisdom whenever he journeyed, and his thoughts proved to be right again. Perhaps other questions could be answered through his studies. 

Further down the hill, Pippin and Laredith sat amongst the tall grasses, lost in a long conversation. Every now and then, Legolas would glance up and momentarily observe the pair as they spoke. Even from this distance, he could detect the faint smile upon her lips, an indication the hobbit was in the middle of telling her some fascinating story while he smoked his long pipe.

He sighed peacefully, then turned when he felt an insistent nudge at his shoulder. Arod whickered softly beside his master. Legolas stroked his nose. "There is more to this ordeal than any of us realize." 

His large ears flicked forward.

"You worry about her too, do you not?"

Arod whuffed into his palm.

"I know," he soothed. "I know, my friend." And with that, he returned his attention to the pages of the book.

---------- 

It always pleased Pippin to see Laredith so fascinated by his stories. He was even happier when she seemed to take a shine to tales about Gandalf. Though Sam had loaned her the written story of the One Ring, she continued to fire off question after question, wanting to hear every fragment of Pippin's experiences.

Because you were there, she had said, and to actually live must have been wondrous! 

This gave Pippin more incentive than he needed. In all truth, he was glad to finally relay the tale to someone who truly cared. And believed. For the first time since returning home, he felt as if the accomplishments of four hobbits were receiving the credit they greatly deserved. Even if it was only the appreciation of this one girl. She would gasp if orcs entered the tales; cry when he went into detail about the death of Gandalf the Grey; smile at the resurrection of Gandalf the White; she would also want to re-enact particular moments, especially if they involved fending off enemies with swords. 

But why do you want to fight with swords so much? Pippin would ask with a smile.

I do not know; I just do, she would announce, waving a long stick as a sword.

Of course, he never discouraged it.

Merry and Sam became avid storytellers as well. With Laredith's eagerness to listen, they found a new outlet for their incredible journey. Merry and Pippin would often form their own team, since they had banded together most of the quest. Then Merry would go on about his service to the lords of Rohan, and Pippin would contribute his service to the kingdom of Gondor.

Sam, on the other hand, was content to inform the child of the importance of Frodo, the Ring bearer. Laredith had sad eyes whenever he was mentioned: she could sense Sam's pain whenever he spoke of his long-departed friend. However, it gave him some degree of peace to reminisce on Master Frodo's deeds. Deep down, she wished Sam would explain more of his side to the tale. But she knew that in time, he would be content to elaborate on his own contributions.

---------- 

As sunset loomed closer, the stories once again drew to a close. Soon, they were joined again by Rose, Elanor, and Goldilocks, and the familiar group was whole again. Another fire was kindled, and the hobbits decided on sausages, cabbage and potatoes for dinner. Everyone settled around the warm blaze, enjoying conversation and company amongst each other, singing when the mood would strike, and glancing up at the star-studded night sky.

After a while, Legolas emerged from behind the burrow, the cloth and his book clutched in his hands. The hobbits and the girl smiled at his approach, but Laredith noticed something odd etched in his gaze. 

Was it...concern?

As the hobbits continued to talk, Laredith approached him slowly. As if he could detect her thoughts, he met her eyes and smiled. Any strained expression that had been there had vanished.

Still…she wondered. "Is something wrong, Legolas?" She asked quietly.

"No, milady. I am simply looking forward to enjoying dinner with all of you," he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

She had her suspicions, but decided to shrug them off. Instead of immediately elaborating on worries, Legolas sat with them, accepting the plate of food they had saved for him. Much time was spent talking, not about negative events, but anything pleasant. Laredith played on the ground with the little ones, allowing them to climb on her back for horse rides, loving the squeals and giggles elicited from their throats. The others seemed to love it as much as the younger trio. As the conversations and games continued, Legolas could feel his heart stinging.

Just look at her smile, he thought. He did not want to be the one to ruin this joyous atmosphere, but he knew it was going to be inevitable.

With a quiet sigh, Legolas placed his plate on the ground. "I wish not to interrupt our evening with distressing news, but--"

"You have found something?" Sam cut in quickly.

The Elf nodded grimly. "Yes."

Laredith ceased rolling on the ground, pushing herself up into a sitting position, ready to listen. Rose called the girls over to her, though they did not quite understand the turn the evening was taking. Everyone looked at Legolas with wide eyes. Pippin exchanged glances with Laredith and Merry. It was hard to decide which emotion was present: hope? Despair? Excitement? Uncertainty?

Laredith swallowed. "What did you find, _mellonin_?"

His heart ached as she spoke his language, but he could not shield her from the truth. She would not want that. He placed the cloth on his lap, unfolding until the arrow was visible. Though no one noticed, Laredith shrank back slightly. "This arrow she was wounded with; you believed there was more to it."

"We suspected it was poisoned," Merry offered.

"Your suspicions have been confirmed. This arrow was poisoned using a plant known as Sylinar."

"Sylinar?" Sam said. "I've not heard of that one. What is it?"

"It is an unusual plant, so drab and ordinary in appearance that it is often mistaken for a type of weed. It has no blossoms, but does have thorns, and only those are poisonous."

"How potent is it?"

"Extremely. In many cases, it causes death. However, the poison is only fatal if injected directly into the heart. Otherwise it causes unpredictable health problems, such as seizures, intense sickness, infection--"

"Or amnesia," breathed Merry.

"Yes. Luckily, whoever shot her was less than accurate with his aim." He paused for a long moment. "Someone meant to kill this girl."

Dead silence settled around the fire. Pippin's eyes automatically turned to Laredith, whose face slowly drained of color. The sudden transition worried everyone sitting there. She looked as though she might be ill. Even from this distance, he could sense part of her withdrawing, seeking shelter within the deep recesses of her heart. She hung her head in an almost shameful manner. The Took stood and crossed to where she sat, taking a seat beside her. Their hands immediately sought one another's, though the silence lingered. The others dared not to disrupt anything, but watched the scene before them.

Pippin squeezed her hand, but he did not feel a response. "What have I done?" She asked weakly.

"Nothing that you could have had any control over."

"I did not want this...I feared this more than anything..."

Pippin did not want her to hide from him. Not from any of them. Placing a hand beneath her chin, he guided her eyes to his.

"Tell me what you are thinking."

She shook her head subtly. "I don't know," she whispered.

"I know that's not true. Tell me what you feel in your heart, in your stomach, your mind. Please."

Her lips trembled, and her eyes began to shimmer with tears. "I feel pain," she finally confessed. "I am frightened."

His heart went out to her. "I know. But there is no reason for it."

"Someone wanted to kill me."

The words made his stomach turn, but he pushed the sensation aside. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

But she shook her head harder. "Someone wanted me dead. What did I do to cause this to happen?" Her voice was filled with confusion.

He put his arms around her, and she felt as if someone had thrown a warm cloak over her body. She clutched to the small being, needing his comfort, needing a shoulder to shed tears upon.

"Have I put you all in danger?" 

"Mama, why is she crying?" Came Elanor's innocent question.

It caused Laredith to glance at the little hobbit, make her wonder how such a young child could accept her at a time like this. Oh Elanor...

Merry instantly came over, joining in with the embrace. "No," he declared. "You have done no wrong to any one of us. Always remember that."

"I just keep thinking of Budoc Proudfoot's words, and how much they are coming true."

"No." Pippin said firmly. "What he said was disgraceful and wrong. I never want you to believe in such cruel statements. Budoc does not know you as we do. Why should his words matter so much to you?" Her breath stopped shuddering as she contemplated the inquiry.

Then it was Rose's turn to speak. "We care so very deeply for you, and we never want you to forget that. You're our Laredith."

She closed her eyes at the intense burn erupting in her heart. All they could do was show her that they would not let go. Ever. Legolas had rarely seen such an unbelievably touching sight.

She felt her heart pound with love, so hard that it hurt. "I'm scared."

Pippin held her tighter. "Fear nothing, Laredith. Do you hear me? As long as I am with you, fear nothing."

He wiped tears from her eyes, and reached up to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. The mere gesture meant the world to her. She clutched him close, letting his head rest against her heartbeat, which drummed rapidly within his ear.

Calm, he thought, trying to reach her mind with his, you must calm down. Let your worries be laid to rest, my child, and let the moon watch over you this evening.

Legolas, not wishing to ruin the moment, silently slipped back behind the burrow.

----------

The Elf spent much time examining the arrows in his quiver, making sure each was in proper condition should their need ever be required. Using a flat, smooth stone, he sharpened the tips in piercing points. Some of the feathers were given to him by Fiwen, which shone with her familiar honey color, even in the moonlight.

His gaze shifted slightly, and he suddenly saw Laredith from the corner of his eye. He had not even heard her approach. Returning the arrows to the quiver, he stood. "Milady."

She walked slowly to him, her arms hugging herself, though there was no wind to chill the air. He could not read the expression on her face.

He averted his bright eyes, now filled with guilt. "I apologize for any harm I have caused your heart this evening. It was not my intention to--" 

"Thank you."

It caught him off guard. He had not expected the statement to come from her. "For what?" 

She finally allowed herself a small smile. "For being honest. For helping me discover how it was that I lost my memory. You have answered many important questions. Pippin and the others do not care about what has happened to me in times before. They only care about the person I am. Who I will be. And that is a most comforting thought. Besides, it is I wanting to know the truth about my past. You are merely doing what I asked of you. And so, for that, I thank you."

"You are welcome. I am rather relieved; I thought you would never wish to speak to me again." 

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "I would never wish that, _mellonin_. It is just as Pippin and the hobbits have told me. In the short time that I have known you, you have already become a dear friend to me." She licked her lips. "And if you will honor me so, I would like you to continue helping me."

She spoke so well for one so young, and her words were so genuine and kind. How could he refuse? He extended his hand. "If you ask it of me, I will do whatever I can to aid you in the quest for your past."

She smiled, accepting his hand with a gentle squeeze. They remained that way a long while, just letting the moonlight bathe them in a wan, pleasant light. They both felt warm. 

She finally broke the eye contact. "Before I go to bed tonight, I did want to show you this," she indicated the sword hanging from her belt. Legolas had not even noticed it until now. 

"This is Analol?"

"Yes," she traced her fingers over it lovingly. "I know the name is unfamiliar to you, but I want to show it to you regardless." 

"I have been curious about this weapon, though. I will study it for you, child."

She unsheathed it smoothly, handing it to him by the hilt. She let her fingers skim over it a moment longer, but could feel slumber making her eyes heavy. "I must sleep for now, mellonin."

"Very well. Rest well, and I shall see you in the morning."

Before she retired to the tent, her hand was on his arm, giving him one last reassuring touch. He froze, just watching. Then she smiled warmly, turning to go to her quarters. He watched her go, a silhouette glowing with love and kindness in the dark. It was a wondrous site, indeed. His eyes followed her until the tent flap fell behind her. 

Sighing, he sat again by the woods, Arod sleeping not far from his master. For a while, he looked the blade over, admiring the craftwork of the weapon. Whoever had made it certainly was gifted in the art of arms making. But as he focused on the inscription of "Analol," something made him stop. Look harder. Caused his heart to skip a few beats. He had found the tiny green leaf stamped on the blade, hovering above the inscription.

It was the first time he realized that the armory masters of Lothlorién had crafted the sword.


	12. Flight of Fiwen

_"Noro lim! Noro lim!" _

The voice had returned, but no vision. No dream.

It was enough to cause Laredith to momentarily stir. But with a sigh, she shifted beneath the blankets and drifted back to sleep.

**oooooooooo**

Morning had come quietly. In the woods beyond the burrow, Legolas whispered Elvish words to Fiwen. The falcon listened intently, remaining very still upon the Elf's arm in order to hear everything. The message was important, and she knew how crucial it would be to deliver it in a timely fashion. As a token of appreciation, Legolas offered a handful of berries, which she quickly devoured from his palm.

"To give you nourishment." He lifted his arm high. "Be swift, my friend, be swift." Fiwen opened her wings and leapt from his arm, the sun making her feathers shimmer well into the distance.

"Where is she going?"

Legolas turned to find Laredith stading nearby, a basket full of apples and mushrooms clutched in her hands. Her hair had been pulled back into a long, loose braid, though several tendrils had pulled free to curl around her face. She must have awakened before him; he had not seen her leave the tent.

He bowed to her. "Good morning."

"Good morning, _mellonamin_. Where are you sending Fiwen?"

"Fiwen flies east, milady. Hopefully, she will return soon."

"Flies east? To where?"

"I shall explain soon, but I wish to wait until others are present."

Her dark blue eyes studied his. "You have found something else?"

He gave a short nod. "I have. I must speak with you, but it is only fair that our friends hear it as well. I suspect we will not have to wait long." He paused, then came to place a hand on her shoulder. "Will you be patient until we are gathered?"

There was much sincerity in his voice, and she nodded, "Of course."

He pointed to her basket. "I see the orchard was plentiful."

"Very much indeed," she picked an apple and handed it to him. "This one is for you, before the hobbits get a hold of them."

He accepted it. "_Hannon lle, arwenamin_."

She started to walk away, stopped, and looked at him with an amused look. "Do you call all maidens 'milady'?"

He smiled. "I admit it is a force of habit, but I find it to be a respectful title. Do you take offense?"

"Not at all." She was thoughtful a moment. "Do you know it was the first name Pippin called me?"

"I had not, no, but I understand he did give you your name." He smiled again, touching her hair. "Laredith suits you."

With a giggle, she walked towards the edge of the woods, where Arod grazed contentedly. As she approached, his ears perked forward, and he closed the gap between them. She offered an apple, which the stallion munched in appreciation. With a final pat, she headed back to the burrow. Arod continued to follow. A shriek of laughter escaped her throat and she pretended to run away from him. The horse enjoyed the sudden game, and his pace quickened as he chased her. He was eager to receive another fruity treat for his impending victory. At this time, Pippin had emerged from his home, and cackled in delight at the source of the commotion.

The Elf laughed at the scene and happily chewed on his apple. Watching this was a welcome distraction.

**oooooooooo**

By the time Merry and Sam arrived at Pippin's, Laredith's basket only contained mushrooms. As she sprawled on the grass, chest heaving from lack of breath, Arod stood above and chewed on the last apple. The three hobbits were doubled over with laughter. Laredith sat up on her arms and gave the horse a dirty look.

"You ate half of my chore!"

Still laughing, Pippin said, "That'll do, Laredith. At least we have mushrooms."

From behind, Arod nudged her. "Are you ever such a nuisance to your master?"

There seemed to be a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he actually tossed his head, as if to say, "No!"

She rolled her eyes. "It figures: I may talk to horses, but they know how to talk back."

"Well, at least you know you'll have a conversation partner, should we not be present," he offered an arm and helped her to stand. "Besides, if he did not eat them, we would have."

She ruffled his thick hair. "_That_ I know for certain."

Before anyone else could speak, they all noticed Legolas approaching, the sheathed Analol in his hands. Laredith was unsure what feelings were shown on his face. It seemed more like intense concentration than anything else. But when he looked up, his features softened.

"Good day, my friends."

"And to you, Legolas," chimed Sam. "Have you news to report?"

Taking a quiet breath, the Elf explained the departure of Fiwen, as well as the connection he had made the previous night. Everyone listened intently.

**oooooooooo  
**  
"Lothlorién?" Laredith asked incredously when he had finished.

"Yes, milady," Legoals nodded. "I assume you have heard tales of the Golden Wood?"

"I have," she glanced at the hobbits, who were all crouched over the sword.

Finally, Pippin spoke up. "I would not have guessed from this symbol..." His finger was rubbing the green leaf upon the blade. It did look familiar now: it looked exactly like the brooch on the cloaks they had been given. A green mallorn leaf. How could he have not known? "I should have, though."

Sam watched Pippin, a touch worried, but shook the feeling away. "Legolas, a gift such as this must have been quite significant."

"You are correct in your thinking, Sam. As you remember, the Elves of that realm were incredibly protective of their borders. Only after we had been invited by Lady Galdriel and Lord Celeborn was there a fraction of acceptance towards us."

"I am still surprised that they had trouble welcoming you. You are an Elf, after all."

"Be that as it may, I was still very much an outsider on a dangerous quest. Not everyone in this world can be trusted, and I took no offense to their precautions."

The Elf and the hobbits continued speaking quietly to one another. Laredith looked on as they examined her sword, allowing them to reminisce on past events and make further connections. That is, if there were any more connections that could be made. Crossing her arms, she stared off into the distance. Her thoughts drifted to Fiwen, who currently made her way beyond the borders of the Shire, wondering how far she would travel, and how long she would be away.

"What now?" She did not realize she had spoken.

All eyes turned to her. "Milady?" It was Legolas.

She blinked. "What happens now? We know my sword was forged in Lothlorién, and you have sent Fiwen to retrieve answers. What happens upon her return?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then almost looked guilty. "As much as I wish to journey to those woods, I am afraid it would result in a dead-end to your journey."

This confused her. "Why?"

"The Elves of that land departed several years ago, all bound for the shores of Valinor. They have chosen to dwell there for the remainder of their immortal days."

"Oh." There was such disappointment in her voice.

It sent a small stab of pain into his chest. "Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, and Lord Elrond of Rivendell were the last Elves to leave Middle-earth."

She considered this, then asked, "Then why send Fiwen? If you knew the Elves had left Lothlorién, why would you send her there?"

He had expected this question. "Not all Elves have left this land, Laredith. You see me standing here, do you not?" He smiled playfully.

She giggled in turn. "Yes, but...Well, you knew what I meant."

"Yes, I did. I am unsure about Lothlorién, but it is possible that some remained behind to keep watch over those woods. It was their beloved home, and they would want to make sure it was protected. I sent Fiwen on the chance that there would be a guardian present to answer our questions. When Fiwen returns, she will either have a message from Lothlorién, or not."

It sounded like a good idea to her. "What about you, Legolas?"

"Me?"

"Your people. Besides you, are there still Elves living in Mirkwood?"

"Some still remain, yes; my father being one of them. Although part of us yearns to join our kind on the shores of Valinor, this world was our home first."

Her smile was subtle. I am glad you have stayed, she thought to herself.

Pippin finally approached, holding out Analol to Laredith. "Another clue uncovered. Let's hope this leads to more."

She nodded, taking the sword back into her possession. Looking upon Pippin, she felt her heart swell. How wonderfully he had taken care of her since her arrival. How she wished there was a better way to repay the kindness he had shown her.

No matter what all the clues led to, she vowed to always remember the one who named her.


	13. Clues of Combat

The top of the hill was an ideal spot. From where he sat, Pippin went unnoticed, which was exactly what he hoped for. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he continued to watch the activity taking place in the grassy field below.

Laredith had gathered a small crowd of hobbit children, whose eyes were bright and smiles sparkling. Among them were Elanor and Goldilocks, who resided in front of the gathering. This had become a frequent and favorite source of entertainment for the children of the Shire, and they listened with adoration as the tall girl went on with her performance.

And that was precisely what she was doing. The tall girl had taken a shine to performing stories for the young ones. It had become a favorite activity for the children to witness. Many of the stories were tales she had heard from Pippin, who felt quite flattered to have her reiterate his tales. She also drew a great deal of inspiration from a book Sam had loaned to her: the compilation of adventure written by the hands of Bilbo Baggins, Frodo Baggins, and Samwise himself. So fascinated had she become with the story of the One Ring that she wanted to relive it, so that others could pass the stories on to the generations that followed. A maestro she was at telling the stories, too, combining dramatic movements, facial expressions, voice inflections, and occasionally slipping into the Elvish language for authenticity. The last was a beloved aspect for the children, who were intrigued by the words of the tongue that, for a majority, was foreign. Everything was brought to life. It amazed Pippin to see her so animated, and he felt proud that some of his techniques had motivated hers.

In addition to these, Laredith, added another element to her performing, and that was the use of a certain prop. She had still honored Sam's request to not wield Analol around his daughters, but she managed to find an appropriate substitute. A long stick from the orchard, roughly the size of Analol, was used to simulate treacherous battles and swordfights. To ensure the safety of the little ones, she made sure to keep a certain amount of distance away from them, so that no one was inadvertently struck.

As he looked on, Pippin felt thoughts itching at his mind. During her performances, he became more and more aware of the way in which Laredith moved while handling the stick. Although it was clearly a pseudo-sword, it truly appeared as though she was manipulating an actual weapon. There was an incredible fluidity in her arms, reaching above her head and cutting downward in strong, graceful motions; he saw how she drew the stick close to her body when executing spins to demonstrate evading an enemy, the way her eyes remained focused and intent, as though there was a threat in the distance. A kind of animalistic instinct, always aware of her surroundings, even if just for theatrical purposes. These factors were frequently evident in her performances. It all caused Pippin to ponder on her knowledge of the sword, and drew up recent memories to support his theory.

A faraway cry of triumph made him blink back to the present. The sound had come from Laredith, who had crouched down, the stick held before her in a defensive pose. The children shrieked appreciatively, encouraging the story to continue.

Pursing his lips at a thought, Pippin turned on his heel and retreated toward his home.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Not long after, Pippin was joined By Legolas at the top of the hill. The hobbit had explained to him his beliefs about the possibility of her knowledge of weaponry, due to what he had been observing the past several weeks. There was also the physical aspect that many of them had recognized since her arrival, and that was the strength in her arms. Sam was the first to confirm this, as he commented on it after she first picked him up in an embrace. The muscles that had formed must have been developed through years of extensive training with the sword. In addition to these, he also brought up the situation at the Green Dragon, painful as it was to relive that ordeal. It had been the moment when Budoc threw the mug at Laredith, and the automatic reflex she had had to block it: the way in which her arm swung up to repel the object before it had a chance to reach her face. Dwelling more and more on it, the motion with which she had blocked it quite resembled that of a swordsman's parry. Pippin recalled seeing this with Aragorn and Boromir years ago.

Legolas listened intently. He had been aware of the instance at the tavern, but not privy to this particular information. Thinking about the verbal abuse she had received that evening was awful to consider. He wondered how different circumstances might have been if he had arrived in the Shire sooner.

Laredith's stories had not yet ended, so the Elf had a chance to see what Pippin spoke of. He studied the movements Pippin spoke of, and could detect everything he had described. She was executing attacks and forming parries with great ease and control. Although they were not perfect, a few polishing techniques would elevate them near that level. The foundation for flawlessness had already been laid. And all this shown by an amnesic? He was intrigued by the amount of skill she unconsciously displayed to the Shire folk.

Pippin chewed his lower lip, but then was the first to speak. "Well, Legolas, what are your thoughts? About what I had to say?"

The taller being continued to watch the young girl down in the field. "From what my eyes have seen, I am inclined to agree with your conclusion." They looked at one another. "She appears to have had training in swordsmanship. It is very clear in the quickness and accuracy with which she carries through with her cuts."

"Cuts?" He asked, confused.

"A term used for attacks."

"Oh, that does make sense," he blushed. "You know me: not used to using terminology for combat." He was reminded of his training with Boromir and Aragorn during the fateful journey to Mordor, when he and Merry were provided with defense procedures. It was in order to protect themselves from the many evils they would face during the long jaunt.

His eye line returned to Laredith. She was scooping the children into her arms, lifting them off the ground as she hugged them. This signaled that her storytelling had ended for the day. Pippin could almost feel the tender squeeze while watching, her arms expressing all their care and adoration for her friend. Her very strong arms. The memory brought forth a smile to his lips. How he treasured the girl. Only she could expand his heart with a mere recollection.

"Pippin," Legolas' voice stated, bright eyes curious, "you brought this to my attention for a reason."

He licked his lips. "Yes. I was hoping you would be able to help me."

"I shall be of any assistance possible," he said sincerely. "What is your request?"

Turning his sight away from the girl, he took in a breath, released it. "These skills…they must have been learned before her amnesia, perhaps skills that had been practiced for many years. Would you say that she could have been training to be a warrior for her people?"

"I would not hesitate to dismiss the idea."

"Then she needs to continue the practices." He looked the Elf in the eye. "I do not want to see those abilities wasted, not when she shows so much promise with them. I would like you to take the time to teach her swordsmanship. You know, how to do all those moves properly under the tutelage of an experienced being. Someone like you, Legolas. I want her to learn the sword. Is this a request that you could fulfill for me?" He shifted his shoulders back and forth. "For her?"

He was studying the hobbits questioning eyes, but through the curiosity, he sensed something that went deeper than merely remembering past skills. "There is more to this, is there not?"

Taking a slow breath into his lungs, Pippin nodded. "There is." Pushing aside his cavernous fears, he spoke clearly. "The fashion in which she came to be with us…how she was wounded…and when you confirmed that someone meant to murder her…it's left me feeling as though she needs protection everyday of her life. As much as I hate to dwell on it, the fact remains that it will always be in my mind." His face saddened a degree. "I want her provided with that protection; I would gladly give my life to spare hers, but what if I am not always able to defend her? The best alternative I can think of is giving her the chance to learn how to protect herself. That way, if the day should come, heavens forbid, where she must fight back, then it can be done. And watching her during these theatrics of hers…I know it is there, buried within her, waiting for the chance to be freed." His look became hopeful, and almost pleading. "Will you help me to grace her with this gift?"

The eagerness and longing he heard brought a calm smile to Legolas' lips. He had already known his answer before Pippin had stammered on with his rationale, but he was glad to hear him voice it. By taking this action, he was doing everything in his power to keep her unharmed. All because he wanted to. "How can I deny such a heartfelt and unselfish request from a friend? And it would be for Laredith. If it would benefit her, then I will gladly tutor her in the ways of the sword."

With shining eyes, Pippin smiled, grateful. "Thank you," he exhaled, and Legolas could feel the depths of gratitude hidden within those two words.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Breathe. Breathing was the key factor in archery, whether it was in battle, or simply practice. Let go of all thought, control the breathing, make it even and calm. Nothing needed to be rushed. Nothing else was there; only the target, and the archer. Legolas was grateful for the quiet moments, when he could focus entirely on his craft, as opposed to watching for enemies approaching from every angle. In the woods behind the Took's burrow, the Elf had discovered a small clearing ideal for archery training, which he preferred to do, even away from Mirkwood.

Exhaling, he nocked an arrow, preparing to draw back, slowly and deliberately. Well-defined back and arm muscles allowed him to achieve full draw without difficulty, and he waited, aiming at the target placed many yards away. The target itself made him smile secretly. It was a makeshift target, provided by Merry and Laredith. On a large hay bale, they had painted a number of small red circles in order for Legolas to use as aim points. It had been a sweet gesture on their parts, and it suited his needs. Take your time, he thought to himself, keep your arm steady without locking your elbow, and do not release unless you are ready. He narrowed his eyes at his prize, zoning all energy on one solitary red mark. Breathe in, breathe out…as he exhaled, he freed the arrow, which zipped almost soundlessly through the air. A distant thud told him the arrow had reached the hay bale. With his keen eyesight, he saw that his arrow was dead-center in his intended target.

Bulls-eye, as it was said in the tongues of men.

"Pippin said you wanted to see me," her voice was right on cue. Legolas turned to her, seeing her approach from the burrow, an expression of curiosity on her face. "Is there anything wrong?"

For a moment, he only looked at her, studying her. Even through the sleeves of her shirt, he did notice a hint of muscle tone, showing the strength that was there. Even if she had not been practicing sword fighting since coming to the Shire, the physical labor that Pippin and the other hobbits kept her busy with certainly aided in maintaining her vigor.

An uneasy feeling began to tighten in the girl's stomach, wishing for the silence to be broken. She clenched her hands into fists, unclenched them again. "Legolas?"

Still silent, he retreated to a nearby tree to retrieve an object, and returned to where she stood. Actually, it was two objects. "I did summon you, and it is for a very important reason. However, before I embellish, you will need to take this."

He held out one item, the sheathed Analol, to Laredith, who gave him a confused look as she accepted it. "I don't understand."

"Come," he ordered gently, stepping out further into the clearing. She obeyed, still unsure. When they had reached their destination, he walked on until there was a considerable distance between them. He faced her once more, holding up the other item, which was his own sword. Again, there was that long moment where he stood there, not moving, not speaking, but…sizing her up? What in all of Middle-earth was going on?

Then it all happened in one incredibly rapid instance: Legolas unexpectedly spun, moving forward as he did so, quite resembling a dancer with his movements. Laredith watched, in awe, observing every detail that she could. He seemed to be moving in slow motion before her. But it soon became evident that his was not a mere display of his abilities. He was wielding his sword…and coming straight at Laredith! He was attacking! She had not the time to react, blue eyes going wide in bewilderment. She was also seized by fear, which choked her to a point of suffocation. And still, he was coming closer, closer, nearly in front of her form, the blade bearing down to cut her head…

No!

It took no thought. Absolutely no thought whatsoever. Before either she or he knew what was occurring, Laredith had unsheathed Analol and brought it straight up to block the oncoming blade of his Elvish sword. There, it stopped. She was not even looking at where the two blades met; her eyes were locked with his, mystification consuming those dark blue pools. Legolas was breathing evenly. Her reaction had been instinctual, something that must have been embedded within her. That would definitely explain her reflex at the Green Dragon those many nights ago. From how she was positioned, he described this as a parry to the head, complementing his attack to the head. The form was there, but a bit rough. Despite that, positioning could be improved upon, and the needed speed existed. Had she been unable to block the cut, he would have stopped before any harm came to her. His intentions turned out to be unnecessary, though. He was impressed.

Drawing back, he softened his features. Still masked in shock, she did not move, frozen in her defensive maneuver. Straightening up, he sought to elaborate on his intentions. "I apologize for frightening you, _arwenamin_; however, I needed to test something for my own reference."

She remained frozen. Finally, she blinked, standing back to her full height. Her throat felt dry. "Wha— ," she tried again, "what was that all about?"

He came close, and was relieved when she did not cower away. "A demonstration to see how quick your reflexes are. I was told that you demonstrated hidden abilities when you performed in front of the children, abilities that you are not consciously aware of. I had the opportunity to witness those actions today, and I can tell you with conviction that something is there." He waited for a response; there was none. He tilted his head, seeing her eyes were looking slightly past him, not centering on his form. Was she searching for an explanation to this conclusion inside her mind? "I apologize again for attacking when you were unprepared."

Despite his worries, she shook her head. "No need for that," and then a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, "truth be told, it was quite a rush."

He smiled, greatly relieved at the transition of her mood. "Perhaps this indicates a warrior's bravery after all." His eyes were still alight, and he stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Pippin came to me with a request earlier. He wants me to educate you in the art of swordsmanship, seeing how you appear to display an amount of knowledge in the activity."

She was gaping again, knowing she must have looked ridiculous in his eyes. "He did?" He nodded. She was taken aback by this news, knowing how cautious he was about her. "This seems rather sudden, knowing him. Did he give a reason as to why?"

Patiently, and verbatim, Legolas explained the protective stance that Pippin had taken towards her, and how much he wished to honor that. Laredith listened, touched at how considerate the hobbit was being. What bothered her was that he did not believe he was doing all he could to help her. How could her beloved friend think such ideas? As Legolas stated, the fact that he approached the Elf with this request was definitely doing as much as he could to care for her.

Legolas was still speaking. "I want you to understand what I am about to say to you. Combat with the sword is not a game. It is a means to defend oneself from an enemy, from dangers you may face in this world. Do not take what you will learn lightly. The same rules shall apply as were established when it came to ownership of your sword. You must not display them for all to see, to ensure that no harm comes to any of the hobbits. Constant practice is the key to learn and build upon your skills every day, and so you must discipline yourself to be consistent." Bright eyes bore into hers. "Most importantly of all, remember this principle: do not fight unless victory is certain. Many a battle has been lost due to lack of training and overwhelming fear. I do not wish to see that happen to you. Ever. Please be careful about the battles you choose to engage in. It will take endurance and patience; it will take time. I am proud to think I am graced with the honor of instructing a friend in ways that will benefit her for life. Do you understand the significance of what you are going to study, Laredith?"

"Yes," her voice was brimming with comprehension. It was all she needed to utter. Clutching Analol in her palm, feeling the natural curves fit into her skin, she felt a sense of her own protectiveness…for her friends. The friends that had taken such incredible care of her, who taught her new things with each new day, who worried about her and did all they could to make her heart happy. With the skills that Legolas vowed to coach her in, she would use them to not only guard herself, but also protect the hobbits she had grown to adore.

My friends, my life. They will go hand in hand forever.

"First and foremost," Legolas took both Analol and his sword, sheathing them and propping them against a nearby tree, "we do not begin with swords." She giggled at this notion, knowing it was not going to be that quick of a learning process. "A crucial part of swordsmanship begins with the basics: footwork. If you do not know where your feet are, or what is occurring on the ground around you, then you are susceptible to many needless errors. Your feet provide you with your base," his knees were bent, a good distance between his feet. "See how I stand? The wide stance provides me with a stable foundation. It will be less likely for me to fall over standing in this fashion…"

Laredith mirrored his actions, awkward, but oddly familiar, eagerly beginning her lessons with the wizened Elf beside her.


End file.
